Engineer
by Still Holding Out for GDI
Summary: -UNDER MAINTENANCE(8/16/2017)- Tali-Shepard fiction circa ME2. I'd really love feedback on how to improve the readability of the document(feel free to message me). Updated Chapters: Title Page, Intro, Ch1, Ch2, Ch7 Appendix
1. Cover Page

**-Cover Page-**

* * *

 ** _Engineer_**

* * *

General Note

I appreciate constructive criticism, and don't offend easily. Feel free to highlight an inconsistency, codex issue, or any other major issue. Message me, or write a review(messaging is better. I cannot alter reviews). I'll try to read 'em. The more specific the criticism, the better. Cogent feedback will always be welcome.

This is my first major attempt at writing. Shepard will romance Tali in this story(and her only). This story will stick, basically, to the ME2 plotline with several notable changes and rabbit trails, some of which will effect the major elements of the story. I hope it's at least somewhat entertaining. I will try to be as accurate as I can to canon mechanics and history, but will not be copying dialogue from the game regularly. I find that's boring. I will put appropriate dialogue in when I can. Ultimately, I'd like to write something of my own. However, if I can't make a worthwhile story from a plot I know by heart, I don't expect to create an engaging story from nothing. A 'Mass Effect' story seemed like an opportune test and outlet. Again, feedback(the more specific the better) is always appreciated(barring trolling and pointless/aimless negativity).

My DeviantArt account is 'Gloomreachestates'. The outline for this fiction can be found there. A simplified outline of unfinished chapters can be found in the information chapter. It's the last in the list of chapters.

I had released this story before. I deleted it, and this is a reboot. There were several reasons for this, foremost among them spelling, formatting, and updating issues. All of these problems meant the document needed a fresh start.

Just to clarify...

This is narration.

 _This is thought._

"This is dialogue."

 _"Italics_ emphasize a word, but not at elevated volume."

"THIS IS SPEAKING TOO LOUDLY."

"This is shouting normally!"

"THIS IS YELLING AT MAXIMUM VOLUME!"

Subject: Notification

From: StillholdingoutforGDI

This is an OmniTool message.

Issues I'm working on

1: More lively, accurate, and entertaining dialogue.

2: More interesting and organic character interaction. Also, less awkward and slow character interaction.

3: I don't like Jacob. That shouldn't come across so clearly.

Note: The funeral chapter(#2), and first Cerberus station chapters(#3, 4) are admittedly rough/awkward. Feel free to skip them, or make constructive recommendations.


	2. Introduction, Ch 0

**Introduction, Ch #0**

This story is one of heroism, sacrifice, and determination. This story is about Shepard, the legendary soldier, specter, and savior of the galaxy.

Mikhail Shepard, son of Lee and Ellen Shepard, was raised aboard the great 'Arcturus Station', a locale distinguished as either the gate to humanity, or humanity's gate to the universe depending on one's point-of-view. A child of military personnel, Mikhail was raised by a combination of his father, mother, and family friends. Following a relatively uneventful and undisciplined childhood, adolescence, and education, he became a marine. He was good at his job, and made few apologies or mistakes. His mother loved him dearly, and regularly sent him extranet messages. Her darling "Mickey" usually replied. Some called Mikhail ruthless. Others were impressed with the results. He never heeded others' words so long as his freewill was unimpeded. He prided himself in his stellar numbers and his ability to convince, haggle, interrupt, and generally talk his way out of any situation.

 **-October 10, 2175-**

* * *

During the celebration of his 21st year of existence, he accepted a dare from drunken buddies to get "the number of that hot Asari over there". An easy euphoria burst into existence. The parties involved both assumed and expected the best.

 **-Winter, 2175-**

The thrill shortly wore off. He grew tired of the philosophical overtones and 'embracing eternity'. Mikhail quickly resorted to excuses, and pursued other social, temporal, and intellectual distractions.

 **-February 17, 2176-**

* * *

Mikhail had been postponing, but resolved to 'be free' of Adriadne, the Asari. He informed her that he'd moved on. His mistakes were numerous. Letting slip that he had been seeing someone for three months was, if not chief among them, close to it.

He could not talk himself out of the situation that arose.

Caius Scipio, attached to the Citadel Security Fore office overseeing that quadrant of Zakera ward, reported to an incident in hotel room 140 of 'Zakera Suites'.

The Salarian owner, visibly nervous, insisting that "This sort of thing never happens here.", went on to state that "I operate a reputable establishment" in a way implying he himself didn't believe it. Caius growled quietly that "I'm not getting paid enough for this", and did what any good Turian did in uncomfortable situations; he shouldered his way past. The agent boarded the elevator moments later.

The lift ride was surprisingly short, considering they were usually in poor repair, and operated at a rate that annoyed even Elcor. Forty rooms down a cheaply furnished, extensively carpeted, hallway attempting to project class lay room #140.

There were remains splattered all over the hotel room wall. Red blood meant the remains were Human or Quarian. Remains of clothing, not a suit, eliminated the possibility of a Quarian. The only witness, and Asari by the name Ariadne, suppressing what he deduced were tears, told him she arrived to find what she assumed to be her boyfriend plastered to the wall. She recognized the boots.

Caius ran the name on his omni-tool, read the dossier, sighed, and opened up the 'crime report' app. He was tired after a long day at work, and chalked the incident up to 'spontaneous combustion'. He heard humans sometimes do that, and had no great desire to investigate the death of another xenophobe. Caius, quipping to the Salarian "the room's all yours, looks like another accident to me", took Ariande to a meal he would expense to C-sec, and finished another long day in a good mood.

Mikhail Shepard is not the subject of this story.


	3. Burning, Ch 1

Here's your ticket pack your bags  
Time for jumpin' overboard  
Transportation isn't here  
Close enough but not too far,  
Maybe you know where you are  
Fightin' fire with fire, huah  
( _Burning Down The House_ , Talking Heads)

* * *

 **September 10, 2183  
**

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Izaias T. Shepard, Commander of the SSV _Normandy_ , pride of the Alliance, was working on a half-melted console, doing his best to control what was left of the fire suppression systems in his ursa medium assault armor.

Five minutes ago, an unidentified vessel had been detected by Talitha Draven, assumed to be a slaver ship by Navigator Charles Pressley, and flagged, oddly without sarcasm, as a UFO by Jeff 'Joker' Moreau. The vessel evidently boasted sensor technology advanced enough to void the _Normady_ 's highly classified, highly advanced stealth systems, and opened fire with an energy beam weapon shortly after assuming an interception course at the _Normandy_. The beam shredded, or, more accurately, melted through the _Normandy_ 's plating, and caused untold electrical and structural damage. Many components overloaded. The byproducts of these system malfunctions ran the gambit from electrocution, to burns of varying degree and dismemberment.

Back to the present.

Izaias had, feverishly working the controls, rerouted coolant, stopped eight individual electrical fires, and remotely reset 61 fuses. In the middle of dealing with a leaking electrical subsystem component, he heard Kaidan's voice, slightly synthesized through an Alliance-issue helmet, ask "Commander, you think the Alliance will get here in time?".

The response, formulated while grabbing two fire extinguishers from a nearby wall housing, came quickly.

"Based on their track record, no."

Shepard tossed Kaidan one of the extinguishers.

"Kaidan, make sure everyone is off this deck, then take an escape pod. I'm checking the lower deck, then blowing the joint"

"Joker's still upstairs, Shepard…" Kaidan added the latter in an undertone. "…though I can't fathom _why_."

Izaias nodded briefly.

"K, then. I'll tend to deck 1 after I clear the lower deck.

Kaidan's reply, "I'm not leaving you", was met with a stoic, "You are".

Kaidan resigned to his fate, and Shepard sped off to the freight elevator, interrupted momentarily by a tremor. They came and went. He doused a fire in his way, and tossed the extinguisher.

Tali Zorah Nar Rayya, resident engineering savant, was taking the elevator up with the wide-eyed engineering crew, the 'Quartermaster', and Garrus Vakarian, present-day bad-boy, former Citadel security officer and idealist. Izaias nodded at Garrus. The greeting was reciprocated.

"Tali, is that everyone from the lower deck?"

"Yes, everyone's here."

"Great…." The SPECTRE redirected his attention. "…Everyone, follow either Garrus Vakarian or Kaidan Alenko to the port or starboard escape pods. Get to it."

Tali looked at him fearfully, though it was hard to tell. The nearly opaque visor coupled with her foreign upbringing made inferences difficult and prone to inaccuracies. He managed. The benefit having someone he could rely on, especially _her_ , coupled with the unpleasantness of making her unhappy spurred a revisal of his original plan.

She half-turned to go before he managed "Tali, you want to help me clear the CIC?".

 _I could swear she jumped a little_.

"I can do that"

"K..." He paused, mentally editing out 'my dear'. "... Lets get Joker out of that chair." _I've been doing that a lot recently. Are these mental gymnastics what friendzone me?_ He dismissed the wayward thoughts, shooing them away like ever so many ravens.

A steady drumbeat of shudders jarred what had been the _Normandy_. _Escape pods. Good. I don't want any additional casualties. Caution is ever advisable._

"EVERYONE LOADED? DECK 1 IS A VACUUM."

A gravelly Turian voice droned over intercom. "Shepard, we have these things for a reason. I could hear you through Tali's comm channel. Yes, all loaded. I'm floating in space right now in fact, watching the _Normandy_ turn to slag. Oh, and it looks like our friends are backing off."

Shepard triggered the door release after 'loaded'.

"Thanks, Vakarian. That's good news. Have a couple pods try STG, Quarian, or Turian distress frequencies. That might be a safer bet than praying for the Alliance. Also, get the pods as far away from that friggin' cruiser as possible."

"Got it, Shepard."

Tali and Shepard, clanking across the CIC, had made it past the planetary map by now. The former interface flickered uneasily, unwittingly providing an accurate visual representation of hope in a dire situation. The purple bubble of the emergency cabin shield could be made out in the distance.

"Tali, your mag feet things handling this?"

"We still call them 'boots' Shepard."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine, Shepard."

"No offense meant, but you mind using my first name? I'd like to think we're on first-name basis."

They had reached the final hallway. Chairs and bodies floated about. The roof was gone. Space loomed above.

"I can do that Sh...Izaias."

He smiled, pushing a disconcertingly weightless chair out of their way. "Shizaias sounds like my rapper name."

"You Bosh'tet."

He smiled, knowing she was as well. It was an acquired skill. _One that took me far too long to acquire._

"Let's get everyone's favorite pilot."

... _A Bald Corpse was slumped over a chair. He never left his post. God bless the man. Pressley's dead. Hell. Dwelling on it wouldn't help. He hoped Tali wouldn't notice. He hated it when she was sad._

There was pressure on his shoulder joint. He glanced over. It was her hand.

"Shepard, what's going on?"

He mustered as much cheer as he could. It didn't work.

"Nothing, lets' get Joker"

"Fine. But you're telling me in the pod."

He could handle that. The pair breached the bubble.

Joker managed a bitter "Glad you could make it".

Tali responded before Izaias' brain caught up.

"Jeff, we're in a wreck in a decaying orbit above a dead planet. _Please_ , get in the pod."

A petulant "Yes, mom." left his lips. Izaias recovered.

"Tali, you mind helping Jeff? I should fetch the black box."

He knelt down by Pressley, grabbed the man's dog tags, pulling the access hatch, and grabbed the friendly yellow black box. Wrapping Pressley's tags around the handle, Izaias turned to face Tali and Jeff, two important entries in his very short list of favorite people.

 _The vessel was gone. Escape was probable. This day might actually end well_.

He managed a stride in their direction. Tali's eyes changed.

"Shepard, run! They're coming back!"

Yelling "CATCH!", he began to sprint, in mag boots no less, the eight feet between him and the pod. Tali caught the box.

The vessel's beam weapon began firing again, its sickly yellow reflected in her visor. He also saw, before him, Jeff bravely, haplessly attempting to restrain a distraught Tali with one arm as she yelled, loudly, what he thought was "Shepard". Either the helmet speakers or comm suite were suffering terrible interference, almost assuredly from the beam's energy emissions.

Jeff's other arm remained out of view, presumably ready to trigger 'launch' button of the pod.

Sometimes, feeling things sucks. Izaias had two of those moments. Tali's eyes at that moment conveyed a mix of fear, longing, despair, hopelessness, and general discomfort. A metal part, propelled from the wreckage of the forward CIC by the explosion of an oxygen tank, conveyed kinetic energy. It felt like someone hit him with a very thick book in the back of the head; slightly soft, but ultimately hard and unforgiving. ' _I hope we make it'_ was his last thought before he blacked out.


	4. Out of Luck, Ch 2

When you see your ship go sailing  
When you feel your heart is breaking  
Hold tight to your dream  
It's a long time to be gone  
Time just rolls on and on  
When you need a shoulder to cry on  
When you get so sick of trying  
( _Hold on Tight_ , Electric Light Orchestra)

* * *

 **December 12, 2183  
**

* * *

In a meeting room in the C-sec academy, six sat around an oblong table. A Krogan lingered by the door. An austere, grey-haired human was seated at that end, while a grim Turian occupied the other.

Admiral Steven Hackett was first to break the silence.

"I would like to make an announcement before Garrus goes through the itinerary. Objections?"

No one had spoken since they met at the elevator. Hackett proceeded.

"The Council has arranged an official funeral. Anderson's leading the effort. No one knew Commander Shepard well aside from the six of you. I will be recording a video message myself, and it will be aired during the event. If anyone else wants to record a message, I'll get it finalized and submitted."

Hackett paused, and looked to either side of the table. Kaidan coughed, Garrus' mandibles flared. Wrex's voice broke the silence.

"Sign me up. Izaias was a good friend and a strong warrior. He deserved better."

Liara followed suit.

"Admiral, I would also like to record a message."

Hackett nodded. Garrus flexed his shoulders and raised his head.

"I think I have an idea of what to say."

"Anyone else?"

Hackett's eyes swept the table, lingering on his right, where Joker reclined and Alenko sat. Joker gave the ceiling a pleading look and took a breath.

"Okay, I don't mean this the way it sounds, but I don't do 'comforting' or 'solemn'. I wouldn't know what to say. We…didn't talk…much."

Liara met his gaze.

"Jeff, I'm sure you'll do fine."

He smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

He looked at Hackett.

"Apparently, I'm doing it."

Hackett nodded.

"So, we have five submissions?"

There was a long silence. The admiral nodded.

"Thank you all. Garrus, you have the floor."

Garrus stood, coughed, straightened up, and, after a pause, began.

"Shepard and I had made arrangements before Ilos about what would happen if we...didn't make it. In short, we were made the administrator of the other's will. Shepard wanted a simple event…I really don't know if this was what he had in mind…" He cleared his throat. "True to form, there was a clearly labelled 'INSTRUCTIONS' document enclosed with the….enumeration. Nothing was vague, so this should be quick."

He fumbled with the paper for half a minute.

Tali intervened.

"Garrus, give me the letter."

Her voice, laced with sorrow and fatigue, was one of many personal red-flags everyone had silently agreed to ignore. Garrus' formality and frequent pauses, Wrex solemnity, Liara's feigned politeness. Kaiden's demeanor, and Joker's silence did nothing but further dampen the atmosphere and illustrate no one was, despite wishing otherwise, above it all.

This was the first time she had spoken to one of them in a long time. He complied. A blade flashed in the light. She, in about three seconds, had the now open envelope back in his hands.

"Thank you, Tali."

She nodded briefly.

"It's rather short. I'm going to go ahead and read his farewells, then go on to property dispensation That's all that's in here." Garrus attempted to show the envelope completely open. It ripped. One smaller envelope fell downward. A folded piece of paper fluttered down, and ended up on the table. 'Kaidan' was clearly, if amateurishly, printed on both faces of the paper. The text 'Tali Zorah Vas Neema Nar Rayya' occupied, in elegant, obviously machine-printed, font, the wrong face of the purple envelope. Garrus, flustered, slid the folded one down the table, saying "Kaidan, yours". Garrus gently handed the purple envelope to Tali. She nodded, and placed it in her lap. One hand remained on that envelope for the remainder of the 'funeral'.

" _Now_ , it's empty. Anything important, Kaidan?"

Kaidan, flushed, quickly replied. "No, it's nothing." He stuffed it in his leg pocket.

"Okay then, I'll start."

Garrus unfolded the single sheet of paper. He paused, chucked, then grew silent.

"Garrus, what is it?", Liara queried.

"I was the first one listed. I couldn't help but read it. Liara, you're next. I..."

Joker cut him off.

"Come on, Garrus, let's hear it."

"I agree with Jeff", seconded Liara.

Wrex interjected "Come on, Vakarian, let's get this started already".

"Fine, you guys. I'll do it." Garrus cleared his throat. "I had come to regard you as my brother-in-arms, Garrus Vakarian. Your skills and talents were invaluable. The MAKO main gun always worked like a charm. You are an exceptional individual, alongside whom it was a pleasure to serve. Your loyalties were never in doubt, and discretion never un-appreciated. I always enjoyed our discussions about politics, ethics, government, and firearms. Goodbye."

Garrus paused, clearing his throat looked in each direction.

"No worries, no one can tell you're blushing."

Joker's nonchalant quip served to lighten the mood, easing things along. The now flustered Turian resumed.

"…..and….I believe Liara's next. His words are as follows."

Garrus readied himself, and directing his voice at a slight angle, off to the right, where Liara and Tali were seated.

"Liara, while I cannot say anything near as nice as I would like to, I will say that your brilliance, ingenuity, and hard work, were several of the reasons I came to regard you highly. You were like a sister to me. Thank you for tolerating innumerable questions about biology, history, and archeology. May your quest for knowledge end in happiness."

Liara was unsuccessfully suppressing tears.

"That was...very nice of him."

Garrus resumed, unabated. Joker had deduced, unlike the others, that the tears had induced this nervous follow-through.

"Mr. Moreau." There was a pause. "Joker, the younger brother I never had, the loyal skeptic, the pilot who would never shut up, the man who would never fail us. Thank you for the years of service and merriment you bring to the table. I hope you fly to greener pastures. Bug the Alliance administration guys, tell them I'd appreciate it if you'd take over for me."

Joker looked serious.

"I didn't know he...believed in me like that."

Garrus responded.

"I doubt anyone he _didn't_ believe made it here."

"His reports consistently expressed a respect of all of your skills", contributed Hackett.

The room grew quiet again. Garrus resumed.

"…now for the Krogan in the room." …...Sorry. Bad pun. "Wrex, I am sure you are wishing I'd just get to the point. Here it is. I respected you and your counsel. Enjoy the gifts. May your battles end in victory."

Wrex looked like he snarled. It was, in fact, the Krogan approximation of a smile.

"Oh...well"

Garrus looked puzzled, staring intently at the paper.

"Kaidan, you're after Pressley."

The human looked confused.

"What about _her_?"

He motioned to Tali.

"I have a name, Alenko."

There was enough venom in this remark to draw Wrex's gaze. Kaidan retreated into his seat back, covering his vitals. Hackett looked displeased.

"Enough. Alenko, with me, outside. Miss Zorah, may I talk to you after we're done."

"Of course, Admiral."

Hackett turned to Garrus

"Vakarian, can you wait?"

The Turian saluted, and gave a crisp nod. A corner on the old man's mouth rose. Hackett quashed the furtive smirk in a fraction of a moment. The words "My apologies for the delays" preceded his exit. Hackett waited until the door closed, and fixed Kiadan with a clear gaze.

"Lieutenant, what is going on?"

"Nothing, sir"

Kaidan saluted as he said this.

"Bull. What is going on?"

Flustered, Kaidan reiterated himself.

"I told you, sir. Nothing."

A vein in Hackett's temple was now visible. He strode forward. Kaidan's eyes widened as he was backed into the door. "

I am going to give you one more try, Ensign. _Please_ tell me what is going on."

The emphasis on 'please' served to convey veiled hostility rather than kindness. The change in rank was completely lost on Kaidan.

"Fine. Maybe I don't like going to the funeral of a man who never respected me, preferred the company of others, and seemed to take it as a personal calling to keep me aboard the _Normandy_. The most he ever did was say 'hello', and ask about his all-important _mission._ "

"You're wrong. Firstly, why do you think you're even in the room?..." Kaidan opened his mouth. Hackett continued. "...No, I am still talking. Izaias didn't just invite the whole crew. Secondly, last I checked, that mission was a responsibility _all_ of you shared. Thirdly, your attitude is affecting everyone else in that room. That Turian has been working 'round the clock for this thing. Who do you think is doing all the legal work? Miss Zorah hasn't been the same since the incident, and needs support, though from whom I don't know. You should know exactly how much effort Liara has put forth. Izaias was thorough in his reports. I am sitting with my back to him, and even I know that Krogan has been shooting you looks the whole time. This may be news to you. Over a decade ago, I adopted two kids off Mindoir. I've been to both of their funerals now. The dead deserve respect, the living deserve better. Clear enough?"

Kaidan was frozen, and realized where Shepard got his negotiation tactics and warm personality. The shock was evident on his face.

"I need a response, Alenko."

The initial response was furtive.

"I...don't know what to say."

Hackett shrugged.

"Then we're going back in."

As he entered, Hackett intoned "Sorry for the delay, Garrus." In a lower voice, leaning over towards Tali he said "I've delayed too long, can we talk after this?". He briefly gestured to the room. The Quarian made a tired gesture whose meaning was as unclear as her temperament, and nodded. Garrus cleared his throat.

"We were at Kiadan's bit, right?"

Liara answered.

"Yes, Garrus"

The Turian brought the paper up, reading intently. "Kaidan, I would like to start off by saying there is a reason I put you in charge of Normandy security while I was away. I know not what else to say. I wish I knew you better. I didn't. Sorry for the impersonal sendoff. Please accept my apologies for the slights and missteps I have made. You are a man of integrity and discernment. I respect that. I didn't will you anything because I had no clue what your interests were; this was not intended as a slight."

Kiadan, looking intently in front of himself, slowly spoke.

"I...hadn't thought of...hadn't realized he thought...that I was...respectable. I guess I was wrong."

Liara looked sympathetic. Kaidan focused on Garrus.

"Thanks, Garrus."

"Shepard wrote that, Kaidan. Two left."

Hackett looked perplexed.

"Who's the last one, you've all been covered?"

Garrus, more levelly and seriously speaking than he had before, stated

"You, sir. You're next. Tali's last."

The Quarian's head bowed, and held the letter closer. A thumb rubbed the letter as if to comfort it. Garrus resumed, seemingly unperturbed.

"Admiral Steven Hackett, you are my father, my guardian, and my steadfast ally. Thank you for the support, on my and my sister's behalf. Your assistance, recommendations, mentoring, counsel, among other acts of kindness were invaluable. Words cannot describe the worth of your actions. Your forthrightness, honor, directness, and loyalty serve as testaments to the man you are. I love you, dad."

Wrex and Tali were the only ones present not to visibly react. Those aside from Hackett expressed surprise. Hackett stared ahead, a tear visible. It was wiped away. Wrex commented, sober as ever.

"You raised him well, admiral."

Jeff, eyebrows still raised, waved aside something before opening his mouth.

"I knew he was private...but...man. So what exactly happened? I never got the full story."

Hackett stirred. "It's a long story."

Garrus seated himself

"We have the time. This is a memorial service."

"No objections?"

No one replied. Jeff shifted in his seat, leaning back.

"Shepard's parents were Mindoir transplants. They were from Albany, New York. They were early-wave colonists. The mother signed them up for it. His dad worked on farm equipment. The family, Alex, Cristine, and Izaias, had adopted a girl from the slums, Sarah. Their life was, for New Yorkers living on Mindoir, normal up until 2170. Many isolated towns and settlements were raided by Batarian slavers. Izaias saw his parents and girlfriend killed while fleeing to a cellar with his sister. He got the scar across the jaw from shrapnel. I adopted the two teens after Mindoir. They finished college and enlisted. I was their role-model..." Hackett chuckled grimly. "...Izaias became a Marine, specialized in demolitions. Sarah went Army, tank corps. She was killed in the Blitz. He didn't take that well. Another girlfriend of Izaias' was killed on Akuze along with 48 others. _That_ was worse. He was a mess for a couple years. He hardly talked to anyone save myself. The posting to the _Normandy_ was a godsend. He really loved that ship. You two..." He pointed to Kiadan and Joker. "...and Pressley were the closest things to friends he'd had in a _long_ time. …..Promotion to SPECTRE got his mind off the past."

Hackett stopped. Joker spoke after a silence.

"So...that explains a lot. Mostly the mood, and why he didn't like Batarians."

"No one _likes_ Batarians."

Wrex's point wasn't disputed. Garrus flattened the mildly creased paper, and stood.

"You ready, Tali?" She didn't respond. He shook his head, sadly.

"Tali, there is a reason I saved you for last. I regarded you as my closest, most trusted friend. Your wealth of knowledge, skill, and common sense was a precious resource. I don't know what I would have done without you(though I know the MAKO would have spent a lot more time being 'calibrated'). I deeply enjoyed spending time with you, and wish you didn't have to hear this. Please, accept what I can give. May it help you find what you seek. Please, do not let my death be a black mark on your life."

This left Tali crestfallen, sobbing. Liara left her seat, doing her best to console.

"Is that it, Garrus?"

In her tone, there was a quiet, hesitant optimism hoping a solution to the current problem lay written on Garrus' document.

"That's it. All that's left is property dispensation."

He flipped the page over. I'll go in reverse order. Tali, he wanted you to have these. Garrus pushed a small, white box over.

"The key's to his storage unit, the papers to his retirement and general accounts, and his personal Omni-Tool's in the Elkoss box. I The photo of you two in the frame needed repair, I replaced the pane, it was cracked."

Liara took the box, and placed it under Tali's chair.

"As stated before, Kaidan, he didn't know what you liked. Joker, he thought you'd appreciate this. Kaidan, can you bring this over, it's awkward."

The Canadian nodded. Joker opened the box with the energy of a child, and smiled. It quickly became a mix of sadness and appreciation. He pulled out a model of the old Tigershark heavy shuttle. It remained landed in front of him until he left.

Liara, still comforting Tali, commented "Do you want to show us, Jeff?"

"Well, if you're interested." He extracted a M35 MAKO model. "Figures." It was moved to the side. Next was a Grizzly Main Battle Tank. A shrug accompanied that one. The last, lovingly and slowly removed, was a large model of an early Alliance Frigate. The text SSV _Annapolis_ occupied the prow. A piece fell off. Jeff was wide-eyed. He set the vessel carefully down. "Toy soldier, he's for the shuttle." Jeff relaxed. "I'm gonna need an apartment with enough shelf space to show this one off." He smiled grimly. "Though I'll need to find a job to pay for it."

No one responded, they all knew too well the surviving crew of the _Normandy_ had been, by and large, 'retired' by the Alliance. The three models were replaced. The toy soldier stood vigilant outside the shuttle. Joker looked at Hackett.

"When'd he find time to do _these_?"

"He made them after Akuze. The _Annapolis_ was first, the M35 was last. There should be a couple more figures. The shuttle's painted as an emergency services variant. He had it evacuating civilians."

Jeff's glee evaporated. "Oh..."

Garrus coughed. "Sorry...didn't mean to interrupt"

"It's fine, we finished." Jeff looked at Hackett for verification. "...right?"

Hackett nodded. Garrus grabbed two wooden boxes.

"Wrex, these are yours. According to Shepard, the framed paper is the letter of resignation of the last U.S president. The blade and 'scabbard' in the wooden case is a remake of a human weapon. Shepard called it 'a 12th century Germanic longsword'. Though, I have _no_ idea what that means. He also wanted you to have this." Garrus handed Wrex, who had come from his corner by the door, a plastic case. "It's an old human design, an '8 gauge' shotgun. Ammunition's in the case"

The Turian turned.

"Liara, he willed you his books..." Liara smiled a little, still attempting to console Tali. "...He said if it's his, it's either a 'Western', 'Fantasy', Mystery, 'Sci-Fi', or reference books. I don't know what, exactly, these genres are supposed to be, however. Turian literature outside philosophy, history, and military tactics is rare, and my experience with humans is...highly limited. They're in several boxes outside. I've got some buddies from C-sec who owe me favors. They can get them wherever you need them, on the Citadel, of course.." The second part of he last sentence was added quickly.

"Any assets not willed and not claimed are to be sold, used to settle his estate, and the remainder divided between Jeff, Wrex, Kaidan, Liara, and I. There's one last thing. Iziaias wrote a farewell. Goodbye all, thank you all, and good luck to you all. Shepard out..." Garrus made a show of checking the paper. "...Looks like we're done."

Jeff, examining the shuttle, disagreed. "Come on Garrus, we all know he would leave his wingman hangin'." Garrus became uncharacteristically sheepish. "I was willed his computers, several pistols, and two rifles."

Conversation began, and subsequently wound down after this. The seven left, and went their separate ways.

Admiral Steven Hackett and Tali Zorah Vas Neema Nar Rayya returned to their fleets, though under different circumstances, by different calibers of transport, and destined for different assignments. The two young men didn't leave. Jeff Moreau returned to retirement, eventually growing restless and finding employment as a shuttle pilot. Alenko returned to the Alliance. He hadn't been retired, but was relegated to their Citadel embassy. Liara and Wrex left for their homeworlds on commercial flights to begin ambitious undertakings. Liara was determined to investigate, unmask, and neutralize the Shadow Broker, and Wrex to bring clan Urndot "Off of it's a**, and into the modern age.". Dragging ailing Tuchanka along was a fringe benefit. Lastly, Garrus Vakarian left for parts unknown after resolving Izaias' estate, and giving a surprisingly eloquent, moving speech at Izaias' public ceremony.


	5. Science, Ch 3

Things I've never seen before  
Behind bolted doors  
Talent and imagination  
(Weird science)  
Not what teacher said to do  
Makin' dreams come true  
Living tissue, warm flesh  
(Weird science)  
Plastic tubes and pots and pans  
Bits and pieces (and)  
Bits and pieces (and)  
(Bits of) my creation-Is it real?  
It's my creation...my creation  
It's my creation  
( _Wierd Science_ , Oingo Boingo)

* * *

 **May 2, 2184**

* * *

The light was harsh, artificial, and far too bright. Everything, mainly his sight and sense of hearing, was blurry. He was lying down. _This looks like a hospital roof._ The lights looked wrong. There was an ominous device on an arm looming above him. _Definitely a hospital._ Someone walked into view. It was a woman, roughly his age, clad in white. She had dark hair, a complexion even paler than his, and striking blue-gray eyes. She was yelling to someone elsewhere. She rushed out of view. Izaias couldn't turn his head. Every muscle seemed asleep. _They're using heavy-duty anesthetic. That can't be good._ The woman reappeared. Her arm reached out. _Something touched his neck._ Everything faded.

* * *

 **May 19, 2184**

* * *

The light was back, as amicable as ever. The device was shifted slightly. The woman walked into view. She looked strained. Sounds were getting clearer. She was talking, but it was indistinct and muted. He could blink. That was new. He felt more in control, and more in pain. A groan escaped him. The woman's face expressed a paradoxical mix of glee and concern. He could finally make out what she was saying.

"LSON. Hmm, looks like you're awake."

Her expression softened. _It doesn't look like that happens often._

"Can you hear me?"

Izaias coughed, sat up, discovered he was wearing a ridiculous floral print gown, and cradled his head with an arm.

"Yeah, I can hear you miss..."

"Lawson. I am going to ask you some questions, can you answer them?"

"I can, but I will not answer any advanced query in this gown or until you tell me where I am, who is operating this facility, and what in God's green earth happened on September 10th. Furthermore, I will not divulge any personal information."

 _She looked irritated. I probably didn't come across too well. Eehhh, whatever._

"Fair enough." You are aboard a minuteman-class deep space station..." She looked away, to an unimpressive man stooped over a corner desk. "...Wilson, get Shepard something to wear. They are in storage room #4."

 _There was no hesitation in her. She knew that off the top of her head. Ever-so-mildly impressive. That also leaves us alone. Another plus._ She looked back, her gaze level and direct.

"Your crew suffered sizeable losses, something like 12 hands lost. None of your close associates died, aside from Mr. Pressley. We recovered your body. You were in bad shape, and we have spent the last year making sure you came back, and retained full functionality."

"...So, this is 2184?"

"Yes, May 19th to be exact."

"I appreciate everything you've done."

She smiled, and became immediately uncomfortable.

"...I...Thank you. I didn't expect you to take that so well."

"I was spaced. People don't survive that. I should be thankful"

"Anyway, on to your last question. Before you react, I would like to stress that a _lot_ of middle-management has been replaced. It is also important to stress that your experiences do not reflect our organization as a whole."

 _This wasn't sounding good. Is this some Alliance black op?_

"I work for the Cerberus group."

 _Hell. I have to get out of here. Smile and wave. Don't talk about Tali, or Garrus, or Wre...or any of my friends for that matter. THEY ARE EVIL. Assume hostilities. Get armed, and get out. She looked worried. She may not be malevolent. Something's different about her. Assume all other Cerberus personnel are hostile. Say something, you idiot._

"Oh." "That's all? Are _sure_ you're feeling fine?"

Indignant ire and suspicion had wholly supplanted confused bewilderment within a minute.

"I needed a second. I don't know about you, but your 'group' is a malignant, cancerous entity, which consumes what it can, erodes what is cannot, and attempts to manipulate the rest. Your 'group' was responsible for the massacre of a whole colony a year ago for no apparent reason. Your 'group' killed MY WHOLE MARINE DETACHMENT. Your 'group' murdered ADMIRAL KAHOKU, and worked with the Alliance to cover it up. Your 'group' is the biggest advocate for bigotry and racism against aliens aside from the friggin' TERRA FIRMA party. Don't think I take the anti-alien propaganda too kindly. I pay attention to the 'this ad brought to you by the Cerberus group' disclaimers. That you saved me doesn't fit. Your 'group' must have a hidden agenda. What. Is. It?"

 _It's amazing what you can do in a floral print gown. Ms. Lawson looked distinctly uncomfortable. Someone else would be cowering._ Izaias regretted her discomfort. Wilson's voice interrupted the awkward silence with an irritated "Here's Shepard's stuff". He dropped it on the ground.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off."

She regained her composure silently until he left the room. Her voice had an edge now.

"I _realize_ what Cerberus has done. I cannot stand by and let the galaxy go to hell. The Alliance, as we both know, isn't going to cut it. Cerberus is the best option. I want humanity to thrive. I believe Cerberus should act as a pro-human, not an anti-alien organization. There are others who don't agree with or take this course. They're fools. We are asking for your assistance to stop raids, mass abductions to be specific, on human colonies, something I'm sure you can appreciate."

She held up her right hand palm out with a raised pointer finger.

"We can continue talking in a couple minutes. Meet me in the medical wing's briefing room after you're dressed. It's nearby. Your new omni-tool can pull up the area map. It's in a box on that counter over there. I will be there in thirty minutes; there are some things I need to take care of. Your muscles suffered during your stay here. Crutches behind you, leaning on the wall."

"Can't I use a cane? Crutches would make me feel ridiculous"

She looked perplexed and suppressed a smirk.

"How...antiquated. That can be arranged. I would appreciate it if you'd use the crutches for at least a couple days, just to verify your physical condition. Any other requests?"

"One question. How'd you know I preferred the Cipher?"

She smirked, which, in this case, conveyed pride rather than joy.

"We have our ways. Your Citadel purchase records outside of the Specter store were less-than-secure."

"Oh, then, that's it. Thank you, again, for everything."

She left. Izaias shifted himself off the table. His legs almost gave way. He grabbed for the table, and his arm faltered as well. He managed to ward off a fall, maneuvered cautiously to the crutches, and grabbed one.

 _I need an arm. It'll probably get my legs in shape faster anyway. Now, for my clothes._

He hobbled over to the sad lump of gray, dressed far too slowly, and threw the gown in the trash receptacle. Now, in slim gray pants, a white shirt with a bright orange Cerberus logo, and a gray-black jacket, Izaias was ready for the door. He was at the meeting room door with 15 minutes to spare.

I don't want to have to waste that much time. Let's see what's on the map.

He fired up the 'map' application on the OmniTool.

 _No armory_. Surgery _rooms 1 through 8 and storage units 1 through 16 were down one hall, the bathrooms and hospital dining area down another. The 'controlled rooms', whatever they were, were down yet another. The exit, he saw after looking down the fourth hallway, was guarded by two goons._ _They don't look like they'd just let a disabled veteran just slide past. Anyway, he had no desire to break his pledge to meet Lawson again. He'd have to learn her first name. Why was he so sympathetic to her? Why was she triggering feelings? Now that he thought of it, she reminded him of someone, someone gone long ago._

Repressed memories, long ignored, flooded forth.

 _It was 2177, aboard the SSV Annapolis. He was talking to Stacie Adeliais, his longtime friend. He'd met her in military school, gone through combat engineer training, and they'd had each-other's back. They both needed someone to rely on. He told her how he felt. She'd smiled, reassuringly, and told him they'd talk about it after they were done planetside. He followed her to the garage. The MAKOs were preparing for launch. It was going to be a routine cartography, geologic survey, and patrol mission. No one thought anything of it. What did they have to fear? Akuze couldn't hurt the combat engineers of the almighty Annapolis. Well, they were right, Akuze couldn't hurt them. However, thresher maws baited by neo-nazis could._ Shepard blinked back tears. _So, that's why. She had the same frame, same hair color, and same skin tone. Her resemblance, save the eyes and mouth, was uncanny. The eyes were wrong. Eyes were important. Stacie had bright, clear, hazel eyes._

He shook his head, forcing himself to the present, and looked at his OmniTool. 5 minutes to go. Izaias walked inside the room, and sat down in the far chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Time passed.

His rest was interrupted with a brief "I see you made yourself comfortable."

He didn't open his eyes, smirked, and gave a nod.

"You know it."

"I need your attention. I've have some important questions I need to ask, then we'll get to more important matters. Protocol is inflexible, no matter how much we wish otherwise. My superiors need to know that you know who you are."

 _There was logic in her statement. No reason not to play along._ He didn't take his feet off the table, but sat up further and opened his eyes.

"You have my undivided attention. First, though, may I know what your first name is, Ms. Lawson?"

"It's Miranda.", she stated while looking at a datapad display.

"Firstly. Who are you, your full name please?"

"I am Lieutenant Commander Izaias Timothy Shepard, of Mindoir, former SPECTRE and Alliance Military"

" _Former_?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm probably presumed dead, they wouldn't keep me on the roster."

"Fair enough. You answered the second question. Third Question. Who is the human Councilor?"

"I don't know..." He shrugged. "...I recommended then Admiral David Anderson. The Council seemed to approve."

"He's _Councilor_ Anderson now."

That brought a smile to Izaias' face.

"Nice, some good news. Next question, please, or is that it?"

"One more."

Her cadence became more rapid and tone more irritated.

"Any discomfort, pain, disorientation, deformation, et cetera you want to mention. Please don't hide symptoms. It makes my job that much harder."

"No, I feel sore all over, weak, and like I should get 10 hours of sleep, but, other than that, no. I feel fine for just getting out of an 8-month coma."

Miranda nodded, and looked up and to her left.

"Jacob, you can come in now."

A dark-skinned man in a jumpsuit as needlessly tight as Lawson's walked in. He saluted, smiled, and then proceeded to stand there.

"Hello Shepard, I'm Jacob Taylor, former Alliance, like you."

 _Great, more Alliance. Don't trust him. Why is he just standing there? Another reason for distrust. I should respond._ Shepard nodded his head.

"Mr. Taylor, nice to meet you."

He attempted his best 'polite smile'. It worked, to some degree. Taylor stood there awkwardly for a second more, smiled again, and seated himself. _Time for some information._ He lowered his feet to the floor.

"So, what's going on? Why was I brought here, and what are you guys going to do with me?"

Miranda opened her mouth, Jacob began his monologue.

"It's not like that, Shepard, we..." He made an inclusive motion around his end of the table. "... at Cerberus have noticed remote Alliance colony populations disappearing, sometimes planetwide. You were pulled from the wreckage of what was the _Normandy_ SR-1 for emergency evacuation. Miranda and her team brought you back, and we are offering you a job and the use of our new ship. Miranda, you wanna explain the details?"

Miranda resituated herself in her chair. _She's pleased. This should be informative, if nothing else._

"Cerberus is in the process of constructing a new vessel, an 'SR-2' if you will." Finger quotes were used liberally.

"You will be paid 25,000 credits quarterly in addition to room and board while aboard the SR-2, up to two years, to look into these disappearances. You will have full tactical and strategic latitude, barring certain initiatives like stealing the ship or defying direct orders from superiors."

Pausing momentarily, quipping that "I'm one of those superiors.", she resumed her dissertation.

"I will serve as XO and Jacob as quartermaster. Others will be hired later. The budget is set up with provisions for eight operatives, similarly paid, aside from the three of us. Should you accept, your recommendations for crew would carry considerable weight. Cerberus will fund all mission-centric or related expenses. Any employment or lack thereof you agree to will be entered into in six months, after physical therapy. Any questions?"

 _Physical therapy, frick. No point in arguing. Colonies need saving. Six figures a year wouldn't hurt, either. If I have freedom, and Tali's not barred from this, I'll do it._ "No, but I'll accept if you meet some additional requisites."

Lawson shifted, Taylor looked suspicious. Izaias continued

"One; I can refuse any crewmember, aside from present company, and get a replacement. Two; I can offer anyone a place on the ship with the caveat that Lawson has veto powers if she can produce a written justification I can review and has backing from on high. Three; I can refuse any mission objective I deem unethical or idiotic. I'm not slaughtering innocents or obfuscating the truth for you. Four; nonhumans, and I am not talking about robots here, are explicitly allowed aboard and treated fairly. Five; I get to send an encrypted, private, unedited video communiqué as soon as possible to my father, and..."

He paused to count. _Tali, Garrus, Liara, Wrex, and Jeff. That's five._

"...five close associates. Six; I get to choose my own equipment and get a full wardrobe, including officers' garb, without Cerberus logos."

He displayed the T-shirt's Cerberus logo for effect.

"Seven; My room here and on my ship are bug-free, electronic and otherwise. Eight; I get to keep the new small arms I use after the job's done, the cost of which preferably _not_ deducted from my paycheck. Nine; Salvage found by the Normandy is property of the crew as a collective, not Cerberus. Finally, after this, I'm cashing my check, and retiring. I don't get follow-up offers to 'come back', 'consult' 'contract out', 'freelance', or information dispatches in my extranet mailbox. We..." Izaias mimicked Taylor's hand motion. "...don't talk, ever, after my employment is terminated. Any points you take issue with, or want me to clarify?"

Jacob smiled and opened his mouth. It was Miranda's turn to interrupt.

"Several. Lets take them in order."

She leaned forward and fixed her gaze on him. _This is unnerving. Negotiation tactic? Maybe she doesn't know she looks creepy._

"No issues on the first two. Just so we're clear, the third is not an excuse to avoid your job?"

Izaias shook his head.

"No, I just am not in the business of assassination and manipulation. I will strive for the mission of eliminating whatever's causing the disappearances. Your 'superiors' using me for illicit purposes worries me."

She shrugged. Jacob looked confused.

"What, exactly, Shepard, does Cerberus..." Miranda reached out. Likely an attempt to mitigate further conflict. Jacob moved closer to Izaias, out of her reach. "... manipulate and assassinate"

The distortion of his facial expression on 'manipulate' and 'assassinate' showed how much credence he gave to Shepard's assessment. Izaias remained impassive, and turned to the man.

"Well, off the top of my head..." Miranda, lifting her tablet, shook her head in resignation, while Jacob gazed fixedly. "...how about the Marines on Akuze, or the colony of husks two years ago? I forget the planet's name. Or, how about Admiral Kahoku? Or, how about all those 'cultural purity' ads you fielded denigrating nonhumans? That would be 48, plus 1, plus the 1,341 colonists including three infants excluding the two pregnant women from counting as double, for a grand total of 1,390 assassinations. Each incident was a cover-up aside from the commercials. That's four counts of manipulation."

He smiled. It was thoroughly insincere. Jacob, taken visibly aback seated himself. Miranda lowered her tablet, and looked Izaias' direction.

"Yes, our organization has the blood of innocents on its hands. Can we get back to businesses now?"

Izaias nodded and motioned her direction.

"You have the floor, miss Lawson"

"Excellent" She put the datapad down. "No issue with 'four'. On 'five', I am only supposed to give you one communication. My hands are tied."

She was about to move on.

"I'm just going to have whoever receives the message to relay the content to the others. This route actually reduces the risk of information leaks."

"Fine, I'll see what I can do, no guarantees. This isn't a deal-breaker is it?"

"No, it's not, though I will begrudge a dismissal of my request."

She resumed.

"No problem with six, it was expected. The wardrobe will take some time. Seven, to my knowledge, is already fulfilled. But, no guarantees. As you seem to know all too well, we are a secretive, ambitious, organization. If you find bugs, I don't know about them. Eight is acceptable, but what are we talking about?"

"I need a pistol and rifle at the least. A shotgun is a bonus. A sniper rifle may be needed later on, but that's in limbo."

She looked genuinely confused.

"I'm afraid you lost me at 'limbo'." "Oh, fictional place between heaven and hell, some believe infants are held there. Otherwise, it's a place of uncertainty and waiting."

"Hmm...anyway, yes, your modest list is quite acceptable."

"What purpose does this 'salvage' request serve?"

"Not surprised you're curious about that one. Aboard the SR-1, we, the crew, sold salvage to form an independent fund pool to cover unforeseen expenses the Council nor the Alliance would cover. The fund was liquidated after mission's end, and everyone got an even 'slice' of the fund. Most put it into retirement or paid off debts. The fund amounted to roughly 3.2 million credits by the time we took the Citadel back."

Miranda's raised eyebrow and blank stare was rather amusing.

Jacob, confused, remarked "So, you sold 'salvage' as a military officer for your own personal benefit, want to do it again on our dime, and still point the finger at us?".

"Yeah."

Mr. Taylor shook his head, crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair. Miranda composed herself.

"Shepard, this sounds rather...questionable."

"The crew, myself included, were poorly paid Alliance soldiers, or unpaid nonhuman _volunteers_. I don't see the issue. Are your rank-and-file paid well?"

Miranda contemplated the question for several seconds.

"No, I don't believe they are."

"Also, this fund allows for emergency spending. You know, in case we come across the metaphorical 'my cat is in the tree over there and won't come down' situation..." He noticed the skeptical look Miranda was giving him. "...and this metaphorical cat cannot be removed from the tree without hiring outside help, and Cerberus deemed the hiring of competent assistance 'a needless expenditure'. Emergencies happen. You can manage the fund, so it's above-board."

She angled her head several times, biding her time before she spoke. She had arrived at a conclusion within 5 seconds.

"Cerberus wasn't planning on salvage, so you aren't depriving the higher ups of anything. I don't see why this can't happen."

Jacob stirred "Oh, COME ON. You can't be serious."

 _She obviously is, dunderhead._ Miranda voiced herself before Izaias said something regrettable.

"I am. As to your last request, Shepard, I most certainly can make that happen. Jacob, thank you for your participation in this meeting. Shepard, I'll show you around the residential wing you'll be inhabiting in for the next six months. After that, you're free until dinner. You can record your video tonight."

Jacob left his seat slowly, then stormed out. Izaias smiled

"Thank you, Miranda."

He grabbed the crutch propped against the table, and moved over to the door. He followed her as well as he could. They went passed the steel-gray guarded door, and entered a very long steel gray hallway. _Likely central to the station._

Miranda, pointing to the right, stated that "Down there are the residential blocks. The other direction leads to various subsystems, water storage, reactors, and the like, which are places you needn't go".

He nodded, turning to the right, and began down the hallway, but stopped.

"We're going down here, right?"

"Yes. Follow me, can't have you getting lost."

 _It's difficult to surmise HOW I could get lost on a straightaway. Argument isn't going to help. Fall in line._

For a long while, the only sounds were the steady click of her heels and the thump-clack of his crutch and shoes.

 _Cerberus definitely doesn't hire interior decorators. Every room I've been in has been the same; steel-gray trim, steel-gray floor and roof, white walls, black accents._

They finally arrived at the far door. It opened to another hallway, this one running parallel. A white-plated arm drew his attention. He looked around, scanning both left and right.

 _Two goons, same as the others._

They bore the same coloration as the station. White plating, black accents, steel-gray fixtures. The only difference was an orange, as opposed to a subtler black, Cerberus logo. They weren't the friendly types.

"Move along."

Miranda, obviously annoyed, gave a curt reply.

" _Excuse_ me, soldier?"

The formerly mentioned soldier immediately straightened up, and shut up after a meek

"My apologies, operative Lawson."

The other guard sidestepped, distancing himself from the war zone. Izaias, grinning, moved into the new hallway. One end, open to a large cafeteria, was likely the destination. The other end was clearly labeled 'Barracks'. _Odd that the cafeteria didn't have a sign._

"We going, Miranda?"

She was already moving.

"Yes, Shepard."

The pair passed quickly through the cafeteria, much to Izaias' disappointment. She explained on the move.

"The cafeteria is the attached lounge through that door..." She pointed it out. "...and the apartment blocks through that upper hallway ahead."

They were headed that direction.

"If we turned right after entering this section, we'd end up in the barracks. Near the barracks, there is a door to the firing range. It's easy enough to find. The last major room in the residential module is the gym, where we are headed."

 _Frick._ She continued, ignorant of the change in Izaias' body language.

"If we take a right after entering..." They took the right. "...the hallway, it's a straight shot to the gym. The first two weeks will be mostly therapy. After that, we're focusing on getting you back in shape."

 _Joy._ The two weeks ahead, clinically speaking, were primarily therapy. According to Izaias, 'hellish', was an exceedingly accurate alternative. He survived.


	6. Nothing Lasts Forever, Ch 4

Welcome to your life  
There's no turning back  
Even while we sleep  
We will find you  
Acting on your best behavior  
Turn your back on mother nature  
( _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ , Tears for Fears)

* * *

 **June, 4, 2184**

* * *

 _Was this the right room? It looks empty. Sewer or water access hatch? It's circular enough._ _The square panels plastering the wall are hard to justify though._ He opened the Cipher's 'text' application.

Subject: Right Room?  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Miranda, took the second left after the elevator, then the third right after the corner, room 542. This the wrong...

There was a digital whine, scanners rose from behind panels. He cancelled the text, and walked in, carefully. The walls dissolved, or seemed to.

 _Nice illusion. It was a large, dark, empty-looking room with an armchair in the middle. All of this was backlit by a sun display, an orb of shifting hues of orange and cyan. Melodramatic. Is this whole organization trying for cliché?_

The entrance of a man from behind the camera interrupted his ramblings. _Cerberus chairman, the 'Illusive man'._

The man seated himself.

"Hello, Shepard, glad to see our efforts paid off. I apologize, matters elsewhere necessitated my attention. I assume you know who I am?"

"I do."

The man lit a cigar. Izaias had opportunity to see him in the light, which was, oddly, limited to his seat.

 _What the heck is up with his eyes? Cybernetics?_

"So, I assume you have questions."

"I don't. I kind of expected you to do the talking."

"Good..." He took a drag. "...That makes things easier. I am willing to work towards a mutually beneficial relationship. I need assurances, however. I know you have difficulties with our organization, for personal, social, and..." Another long drag. "...political reasons. If it comes to it, I need to know you will act in Cerberus' interests? My analysts have doubts."

The Illusive man stopped, returned to his cigar, directing his attention Izaias' way.

"I will do my job. I won't backstab your 'group' just for kicks. I'll hold up my end if you do the same."

"That doesn't answer the question. I assume it was unintentional. Pleased to meet you, Shepard. I'll be in contact."

He Interacted with a holographic interface which had sprang to life the previous moment. The communication ended.

 _That was pointless. Tells Miranda he'd like to talk to me. Tells her it's important. Just wants to show me his room, and make nice._

Izaias shrugged.

He left the room, and headed back, passing many other rooms, the uniform design and decor contributing to a recurring feeling of déjà vu. He'd wanted to examine something on his way in, but didn't think he'd have the time. He decided to indulge his curiosity.

The server rooms, one of the slightly more interesting aesthetic notes in the monotone station, had panels of a clear, plastic-like compound built into wall-frames.

 _Probably for security reasons. You could clearly see anyone inside._ Air conditioning units inside pushed warm air out. _Movement. Someone's in the server room. Who?_

He walked around.

 _Sallow depressing man. Wilson. Doctors aren't supposed to be in the server rooms._

He tried the door, whose console promptly notified him it was 'locked' with a bright red text pop-up accompanied by an oddly friendly beep.

 _Miranda probably has global access. He'd seen her put her code in enough, even done it for her once._

He entered '7321-575-0934' into the keypad. The door complied.

 _I'm unarmed. Dumb move. Cane's going to have to suffice._

Wilson was hunched over one of several datapads, wholly engrossed. All of the devices were hardwired into one of the several server blocks by one thin cable each. Izaias stood over Wilson, and thumped the cane on the floor.

"Doing something, Mr. Wilson?"

The doctor grabbed for a machine pistol Izaias had neglected to notice. The former SPECTRE swung the cane up and downward, landing rather fortuitously on the doctor's wrists as they came up with the machine pistol. There was a distinctly unpleasant noise; it was shortly accompanied by the doctor's screams.

"YOU SON OF A..."

Izaias grabbed the firearm with one hand.

"Shut up. Out the door. I probably broke a wrist, and/or fractured the other. Deal. Press the door button with your elbow. If you try anything suspicious, I shoot first and search the corpse for answers to my questions."

Wilson emitted a pained "Mmmm".

"English, doctor. Got it? 'Yes' or 'no'."

"YES. I...eughh...got it."

"Wonderful. Stop for a minute."

He addressed his arm.

"IzaiasCipher, voice command ON..." The device lit up. "...Command. Call Miranda Lawson."

The media player app began a search for someone by that name.

"CANCEL."

There was a rubberized squeaking noise.

"Wilson, cut it. I'm not stupid. This has been your one and only warning."

After checking his aim, He focused on his arm again.

"COMMAND. Call Miranda Lawson."

Ringtone had never been so satisfying.

"You have reached Miranda Lawson, I am busy at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone."

"PLEASE meet me at the elevator area of the ADMIN, fifth, floor of the residential blocks. ASAP. COMMAND. End call."

The call terminated.

"Okay, Wilson, elevator. Run and I shoot a leg."

The mewling doctor proceeded. He checked the firearm, flicking the fire selector from 'FULL' to 'SEMI'. Progress was slow. They finally arrived at the elevator.

"Stand over there, Wilson. Don't try anything."

The secretary at the desk was wary.

"What the hell are you doing, man?"

 _He's probably ready to trigger an emergency button._

"This doctor guy was in the server room down the hall, doing something. I stopped him, and I'm waiting for backup."

The secretary remained cautious.

"Server rooms are locked. How'd you gain access?"

Izaias nodded to Wilson.

"He left the door ajar"

"I..."

"Shut up, Wilson."

Relaxing, the secretary raised his hands, expressing his lack of involvement in the matter.

"Ok, whatever. Can't be too careful."

"No, you can't."

The elevator door opened. Miranda exited, unperturbed as ever.

"What did you need, Shepard?"

She became more suspicious as she took in the scene.

"Why is Wilson at gunpoint, and what happened to his wrists?"

"I caught him messing with stuff in the server room down the hall. He grabbed for the machine pistol now in my hand. It had been on the floor. I attempted to hit the firearm or his hands with a blow from the cane. His wrists ended up at the point of impact. One of em's definitely broken."

"Hmm. So how'd the meeting with the Illusive man go?"

"Seemed pleased to meet me. Wanted me to guess his name, implied he was a man of wealth and taste, and asked indirectly for a little sympathy."

"Ah. Let's get Wilson into custody."

The three entered the elevator. She pressed the '1F' button.

"Back corner, Wilson."

Izaias had the gun on him the whole ride.

"So what really happened, Izaias? Servers are in locked rooms. Used my key didn't you?"

"I did. Was walking by, saw someone, and identified them as 'Wilson'. His datapads are still in there. I unplugged them all. Looked like he was accessing security protocols."

"You're sure those things aren't still working on whatever task he assigned them to do?"

"I learned a couple things from Tali. Networking security was among them. He accessed the server room to bypass 99% of the firewalls that would've been there had he accessed them remotely. Direct access ports are wired-only on any decent, secure server. They'd be too easy to access if it were otherwise."

The door opened on '2F'. Miranda, standing by Izaias at the control panel, leaned further into the doorway.

"Sorry, taken."

She pressed the 'DOOR CLOSE' button. Wilson's shoulders sagged. The doors opened again, this time on '1F'.

"Let's go around the cafeteria, Miranda. Out the door, Wilson."

He motioned with the gun.

"Izaias, I can take the gun, you have trouble walking."

"K"

He handed it to her, switching his cane to his right hand. The walk to the barracks was without event. One of the door guards had his hand to the side of his helmet, likely to activate his communicator's 'mic off' mode. An officer exited the barracks. The ostentatious yellow markings made it clear.

"Operative Lawson, Is that Dr. Wilson?"

"It is, Centurion."

 _Now we're using Roman ranking systems? Going for the 'new Roman empire' and 'fourth reich' at the same time? Does that make grunts 'legionnaires'?_

"Am I to take him to a holding cell Operative Lawson?"

"Yes, and notify tech crews systems may be compromised. The main server room on the ADMIN level definitely is."

The 'Centurion' nodded, and left with Wilson.

"You're going to the range. Through that door..." She pointed. "...I've got some reports to file and possible crises to manage. Glad you caught Wilson before something happened. I honestly didn't think he had it in him."

"Good luck, Miranda. Thanks for the assist."

The compliment was waived aside as she walked away.

He entered the range. _Empty?_

A voice resonated from behind.

"You Shepard?"

Izaias turned, a large man stood in front of a clearly labeled 'ARMORY' room. The door was closed and obviously reinforced. He was closing an Omni-tool app.

"Yeah, doing anything interesting?"

"No, it's pretty dead in here between 9, when it opens, and 12:30."

"What was it, then, Pac-Man?"

"No, nerdier. You heard of Dungeons and Dragons?"

Izaias grinned

"Yeah, Paladin all the way."

He nodded.

"Half-Orc cleric, closest thing I can get to a wizard in most cases."

"Unique choice. I'm Izaias T. Shepard, though you already know that."

He offered a hand.

"Paul Bloodworth."

They shook hands.

"So, you're the master-of-arms here Paul?"

He shifted, distancing himself from the accusation.

"No, I run security on -1F, the residential unit below 1F. I cover for the guy who runs the armory when he's busy, or off-duty. Miranda told me you need the works. What're we doin'?"

"I need a shotgun, rifle, and pistol. I was thinking of finishing with the rifle, and starting with pistols."

"Fair 'nough. One thing. You're cleared for heavy weapons. We can get you one."

Izaias raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware the suits had magnets powerful enough for anything larger than a mantis."

"Oh, they normally don't. Your armor, the Terminus Assault armor, is big enough to support additional load, should you choose additional equipment."

Izaias smiled again leaning his cane against a nearby wall.

"Paul, I think I like your style. We can end with the big guns. What are my options for handguns"

"Well, we got a couple. We issue most of the recruits the Elkoss predator. Came out last year. The Carnifex is popular with ex-alliance personnel. Cerberus personnel seem to prefer one of our 'in-house' models. It's called the 'Talon'. Management sent a crate of Phalanxes for your team, rejects from the Allaince handgun project. Too expensive."

"Lets start with the Predator."

He picked up a pistol, walked over to the nearest lane, flicked the safety off, squeezed the trigger, and was rewarded with an anal beeping noise. He turned to Paul, who was grinning, and holding an odd red-and-silver thing in his hand.

"You forgot your thermal clip."

"Don't think so. I'm pretty confident the heat sink's in need of replacement."

Paul's grin subsided.

"Oh, you were out of it for a while, right?"

"...Sure."

"All the major manufacturers went to thermal clips. Gun's don't fire if there isn't one. You can quickly 'cool down' your firearm by ejecting the clip. They don't allow for as many shots as a heat sink, and take an extremely long time to cool if they're in the gun, but they're fairly small and easy-to-carry."

He stuffed the one he was holding into a pocket to demonstrate."

"Oh. Mind tossing me one?"

Paul's throw was compromised by Izaias' horrible catching ability.

"Sorry." "That was my fault, Paul. That was an excellent throw. How does it go in?"

Izaias retrieved the tubular 'clip' from the floor.

"Differs from gun-to-gun. Most of the time, it's on top. On rifles or shotguns, usually on the right side."

Izaias found the receptacle eventually, and hit the target once out of his five shots. "Is the barrel in wrong on this thing?"

Paul chuckled.

"No, that's the way it's made, they're dirt cheap. It's why we give 'em to recruits."

He unloaded the Predator, and exchanged it for a Carnifex, which managed to hit the target for a change. He returned to Paul again.

"It's okay. Got anything that packs...more of a punch?"

"Carnifex not enough? Phalanx might. Never seen one fired. Talon'll blow anything within 10 feet a new one. It fires a spread of pellets."

He loaded one of each.

"Firing Phalanx."

A laser emanated when he gripped the gun tightly. _Sensor's in the rear of the handgrip._ He fired once. The gun's recoil was much steadier than the Carnifex, more 'push' than 'shove'. He fired five more times, all on target.

"I'll take one of these."

He flicked the 'distance' lever, pulling the target from 16 meters to 5.

"Firing Talon."

He squeezed the trigger. A satisfying pellet spray impacted the target's shields. He unloaded both pistols, setting them on the table again.

"Can I have both?"

Paul shrugged.

"You're cleared for four small arms."

"Perfect. Shotguns?"

"We have two. Katana. Four-shot capacity. Eviscerator. Three-shot capacity. Smaller spread, greater range, higher per-shot payload"

"I don't need to test that, Eviscerator. Rifles?"

"We got rifles."

Paul walked over to another table, arrayed on which was an impressive, rather daunting, array of rifles.

"Standard issue for recruits, and most security personnel is an Avenger. It's easy to learn. Also cheap. Vindicators are an all-around performer, fairly popular, and our former standard-issue for elite troops. We have some old Mattocks, heavily modified relics, which are what we used 10 years ago. Then, the new Harriers. We modified the capacitors on the Mattock platform for fully-automatic fire. Each shot provides slightly less punch, and the recoil can be a problem. We had to save weight, and the recoil buffer system was redesigned. Didn't work perfectly. Per-shot recoil is greater than the original, even though the projectile has less energy. They're phasing them in for frontline duty. Then, there's the Raptor. It's a sniper rifle, but behaves like a semi-automatic rifle."

"So, what hits hardest?"

"Raptor."

"Which assault rifle hits hardest?"

"Mattock."

"I'll try that."

He loaded the rifle, walked up to the lane he had used, moved the target out to 50 meters, breathed deeply, assumed position with the rifle, and squeezed the trigger.

 _Smooth trigger, accurate, and a gentle recoil._

"Can I try rapid fire, Paul?"

"Whatever, just keep it downrange."

He rapidly squeezed off the rest of the magazine.

Holy heck, it's steady.

"Paul, I love this gun."

"Most of the old guard agreed with you. Heavy weapons?"

"You seem eager."

"It'll be the most exciting thing I do all day besides clearing that dungeon."

Paul went over to the master control console. All targets undeployed except one. An electronic whine's pitch quickly went beyond human hearing. The shields were much more noticeable now.

"These are _very_ dangerous. I need to put everything away before I bring out the big guns."

"I'll help."

"Thanks."

They finished relatively quickly. He pulled out five large cases, but only set four on the table.

"This one is just for show-and-tell."

He opened the case. A large yellow object occupied it.

 _Former construction tool?_

"What you see in here is a M-920 CAIN. Fires a magnetically-accelerated projectile capable of condensed mass destruction and conveying 'suck it' in a billion known dialects. Thirty-foot blast radius. Very good for soft targets, fair against armored targets, ineffectual against heavily armored targets, like vehicles. The troops call it a 'nuke gun'."

He buttoned the case back up, and replaced it in the armory, and opened the four remaining cases. He pointed to the leftmost one.

"ML-77, RPG. Simple.

" He pointed to the middle-left.

"Grenade Launcher, reliable, simple, boring concept, fun explosions."

He pointed to the middle-right case.

"Missile launcher, an Asari weapon called the 'Hydra'. From what I hear, WAY more lethal than the Greek monster."

He pointed to the rightmost.

"Singularity gun, like what those Asari do, except this one's orange and explodes."

"So, I can request these on my ship, but not take one to my room?"

"Yup..." Paul grinned slyly. "...were you planning something?"

"No..." Smirking, Izaias continued. "We'll need several CAINS with accompanying ammo, a singularity gun for me, and...I'll need to test the missile weapons. I know one's a rocket, and the other's a missile. You know what I mean."

He grabbed the two launchers.

"I assume these aren't loaded, Paul. Can you get the ammunition?"

"Yup."

He grabbed two ammunition cases. Izaias went back after placing the launchers on the lane's table.

"Paul, ears and eyes?"

"Yeah, protection's on the top shelf, inside the armory. I have my own."

Izaias donned ear and eye protection.

"Paul, you can fire off the RPG."

The big guy smiled as he loaded a rocket onto the launcher.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He shouldered the device.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Paul fired the rocket, which detonated when it hit the target.

"So, can we find out if that would be lethal to a fully-shielded typical soldier?"

"Sort-of. We can pull up data for one of our guys."

Paul folded a panel from the range table. "No, that would've staggered 'im at worst."

"So this 'heavy weapon' hits like a Salarian on muscle relaxants?"

"Guess so. S' accurate. Self-guided projectiles. Says so here."

He held up a rocket, pointing to the text 'SELF-GUIDING MUNITION'. Izaias, shrugging, put the launcher aside, and hefted the other.

"Let's hope the Asari'll save us." He loaded a multi-part cylindrical cartridge onto the platform, and pressed the 'LASER' button. A laser central to the device powered up.

"FIRING LAUNCHER"

Izaias squeezed the trigger. There was a delay. The segments of the cartridge extended, and the rockets shrieked to the target from multiple directions. The shield visibly wobbled. Paul stared, wide-eyed.

"Damn. Never seen one of these in action."

"Seconded, Paul, I'll need these on my ship. DEFINETLY standard-issue anti-materiel weapon."

He helped Paul clean up, and left. With four cased guns, Izaias returned to his room in a much better mood.

* * *

Afterwards, committed to retraining himself, Izaias developed a routine. Breakfast at eight, run at nine, strength training from 10 to noon, lunch, swimming, two hours at the range, usually divided evenly between the Phalanx and Mattock, a two hour break, dinner with Lawson, the news, kheelish from 9-10PM, and sleeping for eight-and-a-half hours to be up by, at latest, 8AM, to start the cycle anew. The typical day in Izaias' life proceeded in this manner well into late 2184.

* * *

 **August 11, 2184**

* * *

Izaias Shepard and Miranda Lawson made their way to the 400 block after dinner, as they had many times before. She led, while he followed, as was routine.

However, at the point where they had split off to thier seperate rooms, she remained ahead. Deviation from normal equated to an ill omen, at least, in his mind. He realized this was irrational, it didn't help.

"Not that I object to your company, but there something you need?"

She didn't even turn her head.

"I need to talk to you, privately. You're still recovering. It's easier if I walk back to my room than you yours."

"I can walk on my own fairly well, Miranda."

Her voice softened slightly.

"I am sure you're capable, Izaias, but I can walk the 120 meters to my room. You don't need to play the gentleman. Anyway, we're going up the hallway. Turning around would be counterproductive."

"Whatever."

They finally arrived. He propped his cane against the wall, and stowed his coat on a coathanger he'd raided from one of the labs. Miranda sat on the room's sofa. He sat in the deskchair, removing his shoulder holster harness, and depositing tangle on the desk. Izaias then turned, reclining and facing her, making it evident she had his undivided attention.

"Shepard, this 'Tali' woman and you aren't...involved, are you?"

The query took him by surprise. He took 10 or so seconds to respond.

"In spite of my best efforts, no, we are not 'involved'."

She became visibly nervous.

Uh oh. What's going on? Is something wrong? Can I help?

"Would...you...consider...me...well, consider us?"

What the heck is going on?

"Consider us for what, Miranda? I can see this is important, and I want to address your concerns. What, exactly, are you meaning?"

She withdrew, becoming, if possible, more nervous. She remained silent. He got up, and walked over, and knelt by her feet. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Please, Miranda?"

She took a deep breath.

"Would you...date me Shepard?"

 _Oh. Well, that explains it. This is going to suck._ _Be diplomatic, you idiot. Break her heart, and you'll never forgive yourself._

He sat next to her.

"No, I would not." Her head fell. He could tell there were tears. One arm was over her chest; the other attempted to push him away, weakly.

"I am honored you respect me that much. I am honored to consider you my friend. To be honest, I thought a little about this after you woke me up, the second time, the time it worked. You are attractive. I really enjoy your comments and personality. I just can't see 'us' working. We both have too much baggage, and, in a relationship, would see the other person as something they're not. Stacie, one of the Marines who died on Akuze, and I were...close. You look a lot like her. I cannot pretend that wouldn't be an issue. I don't know what you see me as, but I'm confident it's not a neurotic, introverted, colony kid from Mindoir with repressed issues stemming from the deaths of his parents, sister, and two girlfriends."

That felt horrible

"Miranda, you want to say anything?"

Silence and stillness prevailed.

"You want me to make tea and sit here?"

That got a weak nod. He plugged the machine in, and examined the provided cartridges. He'd only ever seen her use the cartridges with the lime-green lid. The lime-green cartridge read "Herbal tea". Hot cocoa was also among the cartridges.

 _Score. I'll use that later._

He opened the machine. The cartridge tray still had a factory plastic insert. He tossed it in the trash, loaded the machine, put a cup in the lower part to await filling, and pressed the friendly orange 'START' button. Walking back to her was easy. Deciding on a course of action was not. She remained silent. He put an arm around her.

"You can sleep here, tonight. I'm assuming you'd rather not drag yourself the 120 meters. I'll take the futon. You can hit me once for 'yes', twice for 'no'."

That got a weak, rather sad, chuckle. She lifted her head.

"Thank you for being honest, Izaias. You're right about what I see. I appreciate you treating me like a person. Few do that."

"We're good?"

"Yeah."

"Friends?"

"I'll tell you how I feel in the morning."

"Okay, then."

"Did I offend you that badly, or is there something else going on?"

Another weak smile.

"No."

She took a deep breath.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, but I don't think I ever will. I needed something to go _right_ today."

"And you wanted me...us to be that something?"

She nodded.

"You don't have to answer, but what went wrong today?"

"Nothing. This week has been hell."

"Am I making things difficult?"

She chuckled, her mood was improving.

"No, you're the one thing that _isn't_ difficult. Vasquez, Wilson's replacement, has been on my case, management has requested several extensive reports, and Jacob is ticked about something. I'm fairly confident it's the fact I'm spending time with you."

"But you two never...dated or anything, right?"

She shifted, uneasily.

"No, but there is history. It's complicated."

"Oh, sorry, didn't know."

"Nothing to apologize for."

"So what is he upset about, then, you tried asking him?"

"No."

"You want me to ask him?"

"No, _definitely_ not, that may escalate. It's best if we avoid conflict."

"Ok, I hope things improve, need me to fetch pajamas?"

"No, one of those shirts will do, long-sleeved if you have them. I _know_ you do."

She motioned to the closet. He raised an eyebrow.

 _This may be awkward._ He shrugged. _She needs support, and abdicating wasn't going to happen_. He rummaged through the closet, and tossed a black long-sleeved shirt her way. The shirt unfurled midair, and had barely made two feet.

"Your aim needs work, Shepard."

He smiled.

"Last I checked _Lawson_ , I'm not flinging shirts at the bad guys."

He made a second, successful attempt, grabbed his pajamas from a drawer, and proceeded to the attached bathroom. He locked the door behind him, changed quickly, unlocked it, and proceeded to brush his teeth. Lawson came in, equipped with her own assortment of supplies wearing the shirt, barefoot. _She's a deal shorter than normal._

He grinned.

"So _that's_ why you wear the heels?"

She was not amused.

"Yes, any _other_ brilliant observations?"

He immediately straightened up and lost the smile.

"No. Second question. Where'd you get those?"

He pointed to the assorted items.

 _Was there some sort of hotel beauty package hidden in one of the drawers? I thought I searched them all._

"I brought them."

Her answer did little to dispel the confusion.

"Hmm"

 _Wha? Wait a Minute..._

"I thought this was spontaneous."

"It wasn't. I don't do 'spontaneous'."

"So what did you plan on happening?"

"A woman brings her personal care items but not night-wear to a close male friend's room and confesses her feelings. What does that tell you?"

The realization hit him.

 _Oh. ...And you thought tonight couldn't get more awkward._

He smiled, and stated "That she must value her hygiene over personal comfort." with feigned earnestness.

"While that is true, you're hopeless in these things aren't you?"

"You just figured that out?"

She chuckled.

"At least I'm not alone."

Phew, good mood prevailed, bullet dodged.

"I'll go wrangle the sofa into a bed. I'll sleep there. Wish me luck."

He completed the feat unscathed. The two talked, and fell asleep; Miranda assisted on her way by medication. The night passed without event.

* * *

 **August, 12, 2184**

* * *

A series of thumps on the door emanated. Izaias awoke after 10, and roused himself after 13.

 _This had better be good._

He looked over at the clock.

 _Lawson's in the way_.

The thumps continued. He stepped to the left. The yellow-orange display came into view.

It's freaking 5:50 in the morning. The only person in this Godforsaken station you trust is INSIDE the room. Arm yourself.

He shuffled over to the desk, donned his holster, not bothering to fasten it, hand grasping the Phalanx's reassuringly solid grip, shuffled over to the door, and pressed the 'unlock' button. The door slid open. He wasn't thrilled.

"Morning, Taylor. Need something?"

" _I_ don't. Miranda does. She never checked into her room. Know where she is?"

 _Wow, stalker much? This could be standard protocol, don't judge...yet._

"Yeah..."

"Where?"

"I was going to tell you. She crashed here..."

"So, you're _sleeping_ with her now?"

"Dude, I am tiring of the passive-aggression. No, I am not, and if I were, I wouldn't tell anyone I was. She is dealing with a lot of flak, and needed support. To my knowledge, I am the only member of her support group aside from some guy called 'Niket'. I've never actually heard or seen evidence he communicates. Jury's out on him for lack of information."

Jacob remained silent, and visibly annoyed. Izaias, yawning, scratched his back.

"So, what's your issue with me, Taylor?"

"Why do you treat everyone like dirt except her?"

"I don't, Xiaozhi, she's cafeteria staff, likes classical Russian literature, mostly Tolstoy, and is an avid Trekie. Paul, a security guy down on whatever level is just below us, and I compare scores in the firing range. He and I both played D&D when we were kids. Gardener, the lead cook, makes dishes and I politely refuse to eat them. He likes Cajun food. Him and I got the burger bloc enough support to change Sunday's dinner plans. I get along with a couple people very well, Taylor. To be honest, I genuinely like about 8% of people. Miranda happens to be part of that 8%."

 _That seems to have fallen flat. Jacob doesn't look amused...or interested._

"So what's _your_ problem with _me_?"

 _Uh oh, Miranda was right. This won't end well._

"Do you really want to know?"

"I've worked with Miranda for years, I can handle it."

"Jacob you do realize that Miranda is less critical and scathing than I am? I just keep quiet."

Jacob's confident smirk conveyed his disbelief.

"Come on, what you got?"

"Fine. Your choice in weapons doesn't impress me. The scimitar's a shiny, white piece of garbage. The predator's even worse. Your personal habits are extremely distasteful. You have, to my knowledge entertained at least three relationships, possibly five, since I awoke from the coma in addition to that nice girl who manages the fitness center's front section. Some were at the same time; I haven't bothered to keep track. You never change out of that jumpsuit. It can't be that comfortable. You talk about your dad is if he wrecked your life intentionally. He went MIA. You had a decent, mom, right?"

I've _hit a nerve, likely, several_.

Jacob was blankly staring off over Izaias' shoulder.

"Yeah."

"You target people when you're upset. You don't like me, so Miranda gets it because _you_ don't see a way to get to _me_. You insist on doing busy work. No one on this station uses their guns without checking them personally, yet you spend billable hours in the armory 'maintaining' them. I've seen the extranet search tab open. And lastly, you have an unhealthy fascination with Miranda. What _do_ you want from her? I'm fairly confident, based on the way she acts, you're the one who jumped ship. Yet, you don't like me spending time with her. We exercise, eat dinner, on occasion, lunch, and watch the nightly news. It's hardly scandalous or intimate. Miranda and I are friends, nothing more, and _certainly_ nothing less. There. I am going to get some pastries, sleep for another hour or two, have breakfast with Lawson, and return to my routine. I think she may enjoy breakfast in bed. None of this is meant to denigrate you. I just told you _my_ opinion. What you do with it is your prerogative"

He pressed the 'lock' button, shuffled around the frozen Taylor, and began the long journey to the cafeteria and back. Jacob was gone when Izaias returned. He entered in his code, 827-63362, on the door console.

It was not coincidence that, on older displays, 'VAS-NEEMA' was one of the possible text results from that number string. Izaias set the pastries and beverages in the mini fridge, the plates and silverware on the desk along with the still unfastened holster, and returned to the still warm sofa.

The pair had breakfast. Routine and normalcy reasserted themselves.

* * *

 **November, 6, 2184**

* * *

It was evening; he sat in his desk chair, His two portable computers were open. He stared at the screens as if they represented the hangman's noose.

You're shaved, dressed in a collared shirt, seated in a respectable chair, the desk is clean, and the lighting is optimal. Do it already.

Fearful hesitation held fast. His palms were sweating; he dried them on his pants. He had arranged things with Miranda; this video needed to be done in the morning. She was one of the few with clearance to use the comm. room. She'd send it along with her monthly report; of course, they would be going in opposite directions. He donned the mic. He breathed deeply.

 _Look happy. Look happy, no matter WHAT. Press the record button._

After several seconds of additional hesitation, he maneuvered the cursor over the 'RECORD' button, pressed, and conjured up the most genuine-looking smile he could manage.

"HEY, Tali wishing you a happy 25th. I sincerely hope you're enjoying it. I've got your gift. I'll get it to you next time we meet. Anyway, I'm going to be out and aboard the SR-2 within two-and-a-half weeks. They're in final preparation stages, and I'm slated to begin assisting in four days. I'd like it if you'd consider the position of my chief engineer. I could use someone I can rely on. I'll contact you as soon as I get aboard, or, at least, send your old extranet account a message as soon as I'm aboard. You can contact me at my old extranet address of you want, I got it back. Keelah Se'lai miss Vas Neema Nar Rayya."

He casually saluted, and pressed the red 'stop' button.

Underwhelming, and you probably botched the only Kheelish phrase in the transmission. It sounded more like an employment offer than a heartfelt message. Could you say any more? What would you change? Nothing. A sappy, impulsive 'I'm hopelessly in love with you' from countless light-years away was a loser move.

He titled the video 'THIS IS FOR THE 8th'.

 _Why I insisting on her reading it on time is rather silly. It doesn't really matter._

He would give miss Lawson the video, and she would, before sending it, record an addendum. She didn't bother to inform Izaias of this. The following is the transcript of Miranda Lawson's addition.

"Hello Miss Vas Neema. I am Miranda Lawson, Shepard's Cerberus liaison. You have successfully irritated someone you've never met. He's in love with you, in case that wasn't made patently obvious by his countless attempts at conversation, the fact that you accompanied him on the vast majority of ground missions, or that the two of you were in each-other's company 98% of the times he was outside the _Normandy_. I find the theory of blindness stemming from intemperate naiveté _extremely_ hard to believe, especially considering the intelligence required for a deep understanding of _dark matter_. Make yourself clear, or I will for you on January 1st, and happily pick up the pieces. In case that was unclear, the deadline is approximately 1,296 hours from your viewing of this message. You have been warned. Have a pleasant day."

Lawson's curt, businesslike smile prior to the recording's termination was not the only detail about the message received poorly.


	7. Tired and Bored, Ch 5

I could use just a little help  
You can't start a fire  
You can't start a fire without a spark  
This gun's for hire  
Even if we're just dancing in the dark  
( _Dancing in the Dark_ , Bruce Springsteen)

* * *

 **November 21, 2184**

* * *

It was 9:00 AM. He was to report to the briefing room, in the medical wing, the same one he had almost 7 months ago. The steel-gray hallways did little to stimulate the pedestrian. An easy jog melted the distance. He finally arrived, after, in his estimation, far too long. He examined his Omni Tool's clock display.

9:15 was displayed in transluscent orange.

 _5 minutes early. Acceptable._

He activated the door's holographic 'open' interface, and walked in.

"Good morning, Shepard."

 _Miranda's abnormally cheery this morning. Good for her._

"Morning."

He walked around to the far seat, easing himself into it.

"So, what's going on?"

She was examining a tablet.

"Hey, Miranda."

He hadraised his voice slightly.

"Oh, busy. Hold on."

He waited. She was done after several minutes.

"We are in the late stages of preparation. The shipyard is working ahead of schedule."

 _She never calls it the SR-2. Is there some issue? No matter._

"I was thinking, we can give it any designation we want, right?"

Her reply was cautious.

"In theory, yes. I take it you had an idea."

"I did, how about the SR-71."

He tried to add some flair to this new title.

"Shepard, please don't tell me this is an antiquated reference no one will get, and has some practical purpose."

"It's the same designation code given to an old spy plane from the 1960's. It was the fastest airplane design on Earth for a couple decades."

She shrugged.

"The tech nerds will probably love it. I don't see an issue. Any other recommendations, preferably not of the superfluous variety?"

"Yes. I would like to propose the ' _Normandy_ ' as the new vessel's name. I would also like Rupert Gardener, Xiaozhi Liáng, Paul Bloodworth, to serve aboard, if possible. I haven't asked them yet. Paul could serve as the primary security officer, Rupert as the cook, and Xiaozhi is certified with standard ship-board telecommunications equipment, even though she is currently cafeteria assistant. Additionally, I am interested if those recruitment messages you sent out elicited replies."

"The rebirth of the _Normandy_ should play nicely. Every crew position is filled at the moment. Nothing's final...yet. We can talk later about who's getting the boot. Everyone but Garrus has replied. Kaidan's message was a complete, blunt, explicit dismissal. Wrex, Chakwas, and Liara are preoccupied with...other matters. Tali'Zorah replied she can join up after...settling some 'fleet' business. We were successful Jeff Moreau. The Normandy bridge now will feature _leather seating_. I hope it was worth the cost."

Izaias, grinning, replied.

"He's the best pilot in the galaxy. The only problem is that he knows it."

"I'll reserve my criticism, then."

"He grows on you, kind of like bacon."

Miranda was not impressed by the analogy.

 _She's probably never eaten bacon, or, really, any fun food._

She waived the comment aside.

"Anyway, we need to get down to business. Today, we are going through dossiers."

"I'll go to get my computers, then."

"I'll have someone do it for you."

She slid him her spare tablet while he re-seated himself.

" _We're_ working."

He didn't argue.

"So, we're covering those three recommendations I had, now?

She shrugged.

"I don't see why not"

"So, I've got an idea to cut crew, fast. Any crew with affiliations with rabid, pro-human or anti-'alien' groups like the Terra Firma party, aside from Cerberus after they hit 20?"

She looked at him.

"What groups are we filtering for? I can't just input 'rabidly pro-humanist' in the search engine."

"Any groups in the C-sec's 'watch list' should be applied to the filter, aside from Cerberus."

He activated the 'extranet browser' OmniTool application, and navigated to C-sec's extranet domain.

"I'll read you off the list."

He chuckled.

"What, Shepard?"

"Cerberus is right behind the Hegemony, Blood Pack, Eclipse, and the Blue Suns. I narrowed it to 'human' groups. You guys are #1."

"Shepard, group names, please."

He read them off. She waited for the program to run, and scanned over the information.

"That cuts...eight...make that seven crew."

"So, what is the crew size on this new ship?"

"Optimum, 28."

"That's the same as the SR-1."

"We looked into the SR-1's size and crew composition. The design was highly guarded. We still managed some details. We cut security personnel, instead requiring a core part of the crew to undergo tactical training. This is not taking into account ground crew. You, I, and Jacob are dual-service. We are simultaneously part of the ground and administrative crew."

"We still need four more crew. What roles need filling?"

She examined the tablet again.

"Our lead navigation specialist, gunnery officer, and the two lead reactor technicians."

"What about that nice English couple, ...Donnely and...I forget the other one."

She smiled.

"I've never heard them referred to as 'that nice English couple'. They aren't a couple. Gabriella Daniels and Kenneth Donnelly. They are ex-Alliance, inexperienced. Let's see what the personnel reports look like."

Her eyebrow raised.

Something must be really great, or really horrible.

"Since they came on, their reactor's efficiency us up 5%. I think we can offer them a promotion. Nice one, Shepard. That still leaves two holes, in addition to the ones we needed to fill already."

"What about that peppy girl, the one that handles dispatches, the one that drives us nuts. She seems to know what she's doing. Can she replace someone, and allow them to shuffle to one of the 'holes'?"

Miranda's expression hollowed.

" _Please_ tell me you don't mean Kelly Chambers."

"Is there anyone _else_ that drives us both nuts on this station?"

"Well, there is, but none that fit the 'peppy girl' description."

She relented.

"I can make arrangements. _You're_ asking her. I wash my hands of this. And yes, all slots are filled aside from the lead gunnery technician"

"Okay, what's her messaging address?"

He opened up the 'text' app on the omni tool.

"That's cheating. It's something idiotic. Hold on."

She checked her tablet. "kellyloveseveryone cerberuscommnet"

 _The contempt in her tone is impressive, even if a little intimidating._

"So no one finds that as a work mail account a tad...odd."

"Oh, _they do_. However, everyone's too concerned about being _nice_ to say anything about it."

He composed a message while he spoke to Miranda.

Subject: Employment Offer  
To: kellyloveseveryone(a)cerberuscommnet  
Miss Kelly Chambers, I am offering you a posting as...

He paused.

"Miranda, where are we sticking her?"

"Assuming she accepts, she will be coordinating shipboard communications, and have secondary duties as the resident psychological therapist."

"...So, we're sticking her in as head of HR?"

"...That's a little simplistic...but accurate nonetheless."

He finished and sent the following message.

Subject: Employment Offer  
To: kellyloveseveryone(a)cerberuscommnet  
Miss Kelly Chambers, I am offering you a posting as lead HR officer aboard the still-under-construction Normandy SR-71 on behalf of the Cerberus group. Please let me know if you are interested in this position as soon as you are able.  
-Lt. Cmdr. I.T. Shepard

"Message's sent, and I just realized I'm an engineer whose first two initials are 'I.T'. I'm surprised Joker hasn't called me the 'I.T. department' yet."

"...It isn't that funny."

"Whatever. Anyways, did you have any 'honorable mentions' that just missed the new posting?"

"Good idea. We did. First on the list is a 'Gregor C. Arora'."

"Details?"

"Comms specialist. Ship's already crawling with those."

"No harm in another, anyone have gunnery systems certifications?"

"No, not to be the only one using the guns."

"The main guns are single-person?"

"Yes, we extensively computerized internal systems to get away with the minimal crew."

"What about Gregor, he have gunnery certifications?"

"No, secondary specialty is medical."

"Next one, then."

Miranda smiled.

"Natalya M. De Clercq, gunnery specialist."

"Bingo, so now we can get to today's work." There was a knock on the door. A trembling, aide, likely just past 20, came in.

"I...have Shepard's...stuff."

"Set it down, over on that end, and leave."

I can see why she has difficulty with people.

"Thanks."

He tried for a smile. The aide looked scared, and skittered out of the room. He looked at Miranda.

"Did I do something?"

She shrugged.

"We need a medical officer, plus the eight specialists."

"We have Tali."

She didn't seem pleased.

 _I'm not going to ask. It will end badly._ I _have a feeling._

"Seven, then. I was thinking of bringing Wilson's number 2, miss Vasquez, on."

"No."

Miranda's mouth pursed.

"What's the problem?"

"She doesn't do anything, has no drive to do anything outside her obligations, and her interpersonal skills suck, much like her former boss."

"I still don't see the issue. We could be described in the same way."

" _We_ don't slack off, and, as much as _we_ would hate to admit it, _we_ care about people, no matter how much we don't like it."

"Okay then. What do you recommend?"

"I still have another rabbit in the hat."

Miranda looked confused.

"You know, goofy magician on TV pulls a white, fluffy rabbit or a flock of birds fly out of his hat."

"I don't."

"You didn't have childhood movies, TV shows, video productions?"

She looked hurt.

"No, I didn't."

"Did I do something, Miranda?"

She recovered.

"No, the past wasn't kind to me. Let's just leave it at that."

...Okay...Distance yourself from the subject.

"I've got someone in mind. Dr. Chloe Michel. She worked out of the Citadel, and knows what she's doing. She's listed, owns a medical store slash clinic in the wards, or, at least, she did years ago."

"...An interesting combination. Does she have any military training? This will be a warship."

"Not really, she had some shady stuff in her past, knows some people most don't. She can take care of herself. She's also is well-acquainted with the medical systems aboard hardsuits."

"That's...an odd skill. It should come in handy."

"So, just the seven, now. I don't have any more ideas. I assume your organization's put together a candidate list?"

"I did most of the work myself, but, yes, there is a list."

"Great, thanks, Miranda. How many names?"

"400."

He stared wide-eyed at the table's center, cradling his head in his hand, and sighed.

"Looks like we are going to have some more misadventures with the search engine. Can you apply that same filter of nutty human groups?"

"Done. 300 names."

That's a start. An even hundred off. Interesting.

"How about eliminating any with a history of mental illness, or excessively violent behavior."

She paused.

"There's one, notable, exception. My superiors _contrary_ to my recommendations, are requesting for you to consider Jack. One word, no last or middle name. She'll be the only result."

"So by 'my superiors', you mean the Illusive Man?"

"Yes."

He input 'jack' in the tablet's search engine. The results were disturbing. He read in silence, growing more disturbed the longer he read.

"You guys made her this way?"

Miranda shifted her head, several times.

"...Sort of. She escaped at 14. The rest is her doing."

"The woman's a nutcase and a liability."

"I agree, wholeheartedly. However, when I said 'consider', I should've said 'pickup because we're stuck with her unless you, Jacob, and myself are all thoroughly convinced she's a no-go because _he's_ adamant she's the most powerful biotic in existence'."

The biotic flare-up made the reason for this angst clearer.

"Where is she?"

"Purgatory. It's a shoddy, shady prison, it flees a system when the locals amass enough ships to blow it to hell. The Blue Suns manage it."

"We can deal with this, Miranda. We pick her up, remove her amp, then 'accidentally' let her escape on some frontier world, out of Citadel or Alliance space, then 'neglect' to realize our 'mistake' until our next stop."

"He wants her, Shepard."

"As creepy as that sounds aside, this is where my stipulation about refusal comes in. Cerberus doesn't _own_ people. She should be free. The locals can arrest her, for all I care. If you don't tell anyone, I won't."

Miranda nodded, and took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Shepard."

"No problem. How many left?"

"197 names."

 _Wow, 103 insane or excessively violent individuals were among Cerberus' recommendations. Tells you something about their morals, or lack thereof._

"Any career Cerberus people-pleasers?, filter those out."

"So, you want me to eliminate anyone employed officially by Cerberus?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea. Go ahead and do that."

"29 names."

 _There we go._

"Cut any Vorcha, Hanar, or any with ties to the Batarian government.

"28 names"

Great, didn't expect much there.

"How about anyone with ties to the Blood Pack, or any gang or syndicate for that matter? Also, anyone with ties to Eclipse or Blue Suns after they stopped being legitimate paramilitary security operations."

"23 names, Shepard."

"Any human over 50?"

"No."

"Oooh, how about anyone with current ties to the Alliance, by employment only."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't have any reason to trust 'Alliance' types."

"13 names, Shepard."

Finally, a manageable figure.

"Who do we have?"

"I can show you better on the screen. Turn around."

There's a screen?

It slid noiselessly from a ceiling housing.

Of course. A theatrical entrance for your theatrical device.

"One of the names is Jack, we'll skip her. The results are in alphabetical order, I'd rather just go down the list, if you don't object."

"Okay, Miranda."

He gave her a thumbs up, not diverting his gaze from the still blank screen, which flashed to life moments later.

"Alor, Vlan. He's an Elcor counterterrorism specialist..."

"Wait...an Elcor solider? They don't have arms, or any appendages outside of their legs."

"Elcor weapons are usually turreted, or, at least, gimbaled to some degree, and are voice-controlled. If an Elcor were exclusively armed with standard-issue Avenger rifles, they would need to be turret-mounted. One per leg. A miniaturized missile system or dual avenger turrets would be among the additional armament options. A full countermeasure suite would be a given, along with a heavy shielding system to compensate for the operative's lack of mobility."

"Oh. So, before we continue, could he fit into the SR-2?"

"SR-71, remember? ...And he should be, with some difficulty. He's small...for an Elcor..."

"Sorry, Miranda, going to interrupt again. You don't need to continue. I don't want to reject Alor based on race, but I'm going to. We are going to be running in-and-out counterterrorism raids across the galaxy, not major onslaughts. Everyone needs to be able to get out, fast, on foot. Next candidate, please."

The irony in these words was never realized.

"For further reference, Shepard, this list is in last name, first name format.

'Alor' approximates his last name."

Miranda advanced to a new image and data slideshow.

"Next is 'Archangel'. We don't know his true identity. We _do_ know he's been giving the Omega gangs hell. We have several images of the subject. Most of the physical information is based on them."

She expanded a photo collection, which started automatically cycling.

"Almost all documented...I use this word loosely. It's Omega...kills are credited to a large-caliber rifle. It's been suspected that..."

"Wait. Go back, two images ago, three now."

She complied.

"That's Garrus Vakarian."

"Your Turian friend? How are you sure?"

That showy metallic blue armor is his, and I've never seen anyone else using similar armor Also, his primary skills were marksmanship and breaching cyber-security. He was always wanting to 'shoot first and ask questions later', especially with criminals. Don't know why he's going vigilante on Omega, but I'm certain that's Garrus. We hit Omega as soon as possible. Six more to go."

"I hope your instincts are correct, Shepard. Next one's Bodan Xul-Ur."

Izaias raised his hand. She paused.

"I thought you were tiring of my interrupting."

She nodded.

"I was."

"So, his first name's Xul-Ur?"

"No, it's grammatically incorrect to modify the order of a Volus' name, in any instance. It would take far too long to explain. You aren't interested in the intricacies of Volus culture, correct?"

"No. Continue...Actually wait a minute, how does a Volus handle combat? I've been told the suits are prone to 'popping' under hard blows."

"Heavy shielding, physical and otherwise. They are capable of rolling quite well."

"Is that a joke?"

"I don't 'joke', especially in meeting rooms."

"What's his skillset?"

"AIs and security systems."

"We already have Garrus and Tali, unless he has excellent weapons or command skills, I'll pass."

"He doesn't, He's never been put in a command role, and weapon-related skills and experience are the biggest weak-point in his profile."

"The next _may_ have been already lined-up by higher-ups."

"By 'may', you mean the Illusive man is cramming someone else down my throat?"

"I wouldn't use that turn-of-phrase, but, yes. We can terminate the contract. However, he would need a _strong_ justification. Shall I continue?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Goto, Kasumi, infiltration specialist. She's a professional thief..."

Already unimpressed and wary.

"...She and another thief, Keiji Okuda, were quite the pair...until five months ago. They were, and she still is, suspected in heists across 43 systems, and on several hundred government 'watch' lists. They planned and almost finished heist on the Beckenstein 'businessman', Donovan Hoc...We strongly suspect he's an arms dealer. The heist went south. Kasumi escaped, Keiji didn't. She is offering her skills provided we get him back and provide a modest recompensation."

"If she can...cooperate, I'll relent. If she tries anything, I'll sequester her in the airlock, and open the other end."

Miranda look concerned.

"...You aren't serious, correct?"

"No, I'm not. Go ahead and send the empty threat with the acceptance message."

Miranda looked dubious.

"I won't stand by if you blow something out of proportion like that. I can suspend your status as commanding officer."

"Good to know. Your conviction is one of the reasons I respect you, Miranda. Next one?"

"...Yes...next one. Jäger, Klaus, a former Alliance engineer and army officer. He worked his way up the infantry divisions. His primary work was with the still-ongoing and classified 'Destroyer' armor project. He left over...differences with project lead, and founded a company on his own, and producing his own 'Destroyer' armor models for select clients, out of Turian space. He is, by all accounts an outstanding tactician, weapons specialist, electrical engineer, and armorer. He is a family man; there may be difficulties there. However, I think we could...leverage some influence to give him a suitably alluring offer. Should I go on?"

"I think...I think we should avoid putting people with family aboard. Whoever we're pursuing could have a long reach. It's a lot easier to attack dependants or loved ones than it is someone aboard an experimental stealth warship. Unless we _need_ another person, let's skip Klaus. Definitely the 'backup' option."

Miranda paused, her attention fixed elsewhere. She resumed momentarily.

"...The next individual is a Krogan Warlord and geneticist named Okeer, clanless, and expelled from Tuchanka for reasons unknown. The information on him is sparse, especially considering how old he is."

"How old is he?"

"Roughly 1,000 standard years, somewhere in the range of 987-1097 years old."

"So Krogan are almost as long-lived as Asari?"

"There are few examples of 'old' Krogan. The ones that exist live, on average, 45 or so years longer than a typical Asari."

"Any additional major points?"

"Not really, he lived most of his life in a remote area on Tuchanka. He is currently on Korlus, one of many garbage worlds. Intelligence indicates he has been working on circumventing the Genophage."

"Okeer seems viable, but I'll reserve judgement 'till we meet him in-person. Four left."

"Massani, Zaeed, founder of the Blue Suns Security Corporation..."

He raised his hand again.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"I've heard of him, he's a 'go'. ...And Miranda, can you call me Izaias?"

She pulled the 'polite smile' out.

"I can, Shepard."

"Thanks, Next? Actually, let's cut this short. Who's left?"

"Solus, Mordin, Salarian Geneticist, Thane, Drell assassin, T'Lael, Samara, Asari Justicar, Tripae, Okus, former Turian armed forces and special forces, and Wallach, Hannah, former Alliance army. Solus is former STG. The Drell's last name is unknown, and we know little of his personal life. His skill-set is not in doubt. He easily among the galaxy's best unarmed combat specialists, and proficient with most sub-machineguns, and it is highly likely several long-range assassinations via high-powered rifle are his work. Our analysts believe the Justicar is attempting to atone for her daughters, specifically, her eldest. They are _all_ Ardat-Yakshi."

"The odds of that are extremely remote, right?"

"Yes, approximately .00008%, or eight in a billion, of all pureblood Asari are Ardat-Yakshi. The odds of having three daughters, all Ardat Yakshi, is something like five in a quintillion, .000000000000512% if you want exact figures."

"I know being an Ardat Yakshi is 'bad', and I know I've heard it somewhere. Could you refresh my memory?"

"They are Asari sex vampires."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me correctly. They fry the other individual's nervous system at some point during sex, and get a 'high'. There are isolated incidences of Elcor surviving this, likely an amperage limitation. Some say, after the 'high' their biotic abilities improve. I'm dubious, likely a legend they advanced themselves. Fear is an asset."

"Oh. So, Okus' career?"

"Yes, Okus worked special operations after an exemplary career in the combat engineer, usually 'sabotage' and/or infiltration missions. Hannah works for a relatively well-regarded security firm off of Mars."

"Samara is a no-go. I don't want a Justicar. I've heard enough of them from Liara."

"What is your issue...Izaias?"

"They are intolerant, theocratic, holier-than-thou, trigger-happy vigilantes, like the SPECTREs, without the accountability or the dubious public image. I did some research years back, back on the SR-1, after Saren. There are countless instances of a law officer getting killed or injured because the 'Justicar Code' didn't provide a suitably obvious alternative. I don't want one of _them_ on my ship...our ship."

"It's okay to feel ownership of your work, Shepard. I didn't know you felt that strongly."

"Neither did I. Okus is also a no-go. We've already got a Turian engineer and, if I have to keep Kasumi, an infiltration specialist to boot. If you guys hadn't already recruited Kasumi things'd be different. Anyone have a traumatic experience?"

"Miss Wallach was kidnapped as a child, we have no information on Thane, and Mordin's life has been rather idyllic, complete with starring in the high school musical."

"...Okay, musical aside, details on Wallach's incident?"

"The records are sealed, we have the basics. Kidnapped from the school parking lot, and abused. It wasn't pretty. She was found relatively quickly, 31 hours."

"Then Wallach's also a no-go. We're tracking interstellar kidnappers. We don't need a nervous breakdown or a vengeance for things unrequited. We can go one short. You can put the spare salary to the SR-71's construction fund? If you can, see if we can get any additional output from the reactor."

"You lost count, didn't you? We have two dextros, Dr. Solus, Goto, Jack, Okeer, Mr. Massani, and the Drell. That's eight. If there is a budget surplus, I will see about bolstering reactor subsystems. Something specific?"

Izaias, hand behind his head, sheepishly digressed.

"Oops. Yeah. Last time, the Collector vessel's beam weapon overloaded electrical systems and went through shields like a hot knife through butter. Investing in better shielding capacitor systems and redundant surge protectors would be great."

Miranda thought for a moment.

"Good recommendation. I'll see that Research and Development hears about it."

"Anyway, that all, Miranda?"

"No, it's time for lunch."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Call me 'ma'am' again, and you'll regret it."

He grinned.

"OK, Miranda."

They headed out.


	8. Come On, Ch 6

These people 'round here  
Wear beat down eyes sunk in smoke-dried faces  
They're resigned to what their fate is  
But not us, (no never) no not us (no never)  
We are far too young and clever  
Remember  
( _Come on Eileen, Dexys Midnight Runners_ )

* * *

 **November 24, 2184**

* * *

The great doors had ceased groaning the motors ceased whining, and the man at the end of the hangar had commenced snoring. He was seated on a folding chair removed from one of the innumerable closets and storage rooms arranged about the space station. Higher-ups had informed him there were two VIPs landing some time today, with the possibility of a third. After two hours, the sirens began to blare, heralding an impending landing, and rousing the former SPECTRE from his slumber.

A new vessel, freshly painted with vivid, clear colors and tail image, indicated a prosperous, vibrant, professional company. The airline name, 'Citadel Spacelines' occupied, in an elegant, almost-scrollwork, font, the shuttle's flank.

 _Citadel providence, must be the charter flight._

He roused himself, taking the opportunity to stretch before anyone disembarked. The turbulence from the spacecraft's landing thrusters stirring up the air and whatever particles the cleaning drones' passes had missed.

The landing gear deployed, and the shuttle settled, the air around it following suit moments later. Additional moments passed. The air vents around the port airlock came to life.

 _Telltale sign of an airlock cycling._

The door unseated itself, and the halves separated, eventually folding to each side. The boarding ramp deployed, shortly followed by the disembarkation of a sole man in what appeared to be the airline uniform.

The uniform was crisp and clean. The man was not. He directed his voice to those inside the vessel in a tone neither discreet nor quiet.

"Mind the ramp, civvies, we've got places to go. They ain't payin' me to stand still."

He moved in his arm in a circular motion, further communicating his impatience.

A bearded man in a baseball cap, walking with obvious effort without assistance, followed a red-haired woman in a green-and-white jacket, slim black pants, and well-made dark shoes.

Izaias grinned.

"JOKER CHLOE! Glad to see you guys."

Dr. Michel jumped, almost falling over the ramp. Joker turned smiled, waved, and refocused on navigating the ramp, amiable as ever.

Jeff Moreau said something to the crewman, who walked over to the rear of the craft while Dr. Michel stood, hands clasped together, by the ramp's terminus.

Joker continued towards Izaias.

"Come on Michel, he's got our luggage."

He turned to Izaias.

"One advantage to being legally disabled; I get special treatment on spacelines."

"So, how've things been? My message went through, right?"

Joker chuckled.

"Yeah, can't say it wasn't weird getting a message from the guy you gave a public, televised, eulogy for."

"They had a ceremony?"

Joker eyed him oddly.

"It was all over the extranet. Have you been under a rock for two years?"

Izaias smirked.

"Pretty much. I've been training and dealing with managerial garbage for six months, before that, I was 100% comatose. So, how was my funeral, the private one? Anything I should know about?"

Joker, averting his gaze, and shifting slightly, paused momentarily.

"...Not really. It was awkward. Kaidan, Liara, Garrus, and Tali went AWOL afterwards. Tali and Kaidan acted...different. Wrex and Hackett were fine, though."

"Oh. Were you fine? I didn't cause problems, did I?"

"Well your _dying_ caused problems. You couldn't really help that, though. So, I have to return the models, don't I?"

Izaias smiled again.

"No. I'll have to get my accounts back in order again, but I could deal without the clutter. Clean start. Glad you like 'em." He turned to Michel, stepping towards her, offering a handshake.

"Miss Michel, really glad you could make it."

She opted for a hug.

"Shepard, I'm glad to be 'ere."

The crewman had finished.

"Stuff's unpacked. I need a officer's signature indicating a 'satisfied customer'."

He proffered a tablet computer. Izaias walked over.

"I can do that." He signed. The man perked up, and walked aboard, addressing fellow crewmembers over an earpiece.

"Izzy, Al! Power it up. We're clear to get off this friggin' station."

The door sealed behind him. Izaias, meanwhile, turned to examine the luggage. He stared openmouthed. 16 items didn't stare back.

"Joker, how much junk did you bring?"

The reply came complete with casual levity.

"We brought a _lot_ of c**p."

They finished moving the items as the shuttle lifted off.

"Okay, let's get this stuff sorted. I take it the Alliance bags are Joker's?"

"Yeah, along with the red backpack and the leather suitcase."

Izaias, as he moved them, commented.

"So where are you getting the money for _leather_ luggage?"

Joker, obviously pleased, replied.

"I was the primary shuttle pilot for Citadel News Network. I made bank. It was a lot easier than avoiding sulfuric clouds on Therum."

Izaias smirked.

"Or dropping a MAKO on a football field-sized target from orbit?"

Joker grinned this time. Michel was organizing her luggage as the other two wasted time.

"Don't let me interrupt, but Shepard, can you hand me zat 'ardcase. Be 'areful."

He gingerly passed her the case. That still left four suitcases and what can only be described as a tall rolling box.

"So, whose are those?"

Izaias nodded to the extras. Michel shrugged.

"Zey aren't mine. Mr. Moreau?"

"This is all I packed..." He made a showman's gesture to his belongings. "...Cerberus sending goodies?"

"Maybe. I doubt it."

Izaias activated his OmniTool.

Subject: Parcel Delivery  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Did your syndicate send luggage along with Mr. Moreau and Dr. Michel?

The reply came quickly.

Subject: No  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
No, what arrived?

Izaias turned to Joker. "Looks like we'll be making a pit-stop by the Citadel when we have the time. We've got lost luggage to deliver. I'll get to it later. Right now, you guys are what's most important. _Normandy_ 's launching in two months or so. We shouldn't be stuck here any more than seventy days. Lemme send a message."

Subject: Stuff  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Four suitcases and a wheeled box. I'll store them with Normandy supplies; we can drop them off at the Citadel later.

After sending the message, he turned to Michel. "How much of this..." He gestured to her supplies. "...is for the med bay?" "Oh, most of it, I didn't know what Cerberus would supply." "K. Just leave it here, I'll arrange for storage after you guys are set." They left the hangar.

It was late. Izaias was returning to move Michel's equipment, waiting for the airlock door to the hangar section to actuate.

 _What a pleasant evening. Glad to have old friends around._ It began to groan open. _Awful noisy. Awful slow too._

The door finished moving. Two gaurds stood motionless at each side. He moved past.

Wonder if that's a job requirement?

He entered the darkened Hangar 4. The motion dectectors registered his movements. A fraction of a second later, the overhead lights came to life. The luggage was all there, as before. He started moving the items into one of several attached storage units, all filled with supplies for the new _Normandy_ SR-71. As he was loading the last of the 'missing' luggage into the unit, there was a noise. It barely registered, and was dismissed. The voice from nowhere, however, both registered and elicited reaction.

"You Shep?"

Izaias jumped, then stilled himself. _Voice behind me. Unknown._ He was in darkness, in the storage unit. He reached nonchalantly into his jacket, hand grabbing hold of his M77 Phalanx's grip, flicking the safety off as it did so, the inaudible 'click' reassuring his nerves. He turned around, slowly.

"I am."

A hooded figure stood in the light of the hangar.

"And you are..."

"Kasumi Goto"

She waved, her face obscured. _Odd fashion choice.._ He reapplied the safety, relaxing as he exited the storage unit.

"How'd you get here?"

"Same way your two friends did."

"No one else was on the flight, and your shuttle was delayed."

"Oh, I transferred."

Still not getting it

"How, and why?"

"I hate waiting, and it's fun to stowaway."

"Okay...So you hid aboard the vessel cargo bay?"

"No, spaceline seats are soooo much better."

"I'm still not getting it." "That's obvious..." She said this in such a tone that implied empathy and understanding rather than contempt. "...Here. This should help."

Her figure shimmered, and disappeared.

"See. Really cool, huh?"

I can't see, as it's a cloaking device.

"Sure. So this stuff's yours?"

"Mmmmhhmm"

"Can you disengage that device?"

"Oh, yeah."

She shimmered back into view.

"Miranda mentioned your recruitment had some...elaborate terms. What is it you want?"

"Keiji back."

"I'm sorry, who's 'Keiji'?"

"My partner."

Izaias raised an eyebrow.

"No, not like that...well kinda like that. It's complicated."

"He's the one Hoc killed, right?"

"NO. He's _not_ dead."

She stamped her foot, though, it was hard to notice. _Three or so inches of upward travel._ _There is pain in her voice_. _Misstep. Hell hath no fury..._

"Okay, so where is he?"

"I've done some digging. Made arrangements. Called in favors. Hoc's estate on Beckenstein. I've got some ideas."

Izaias adopted his best diplomatic tone.

"Okay. What would you like me to do? I can arrange a late-night meeting now, or we can do one in the morning."

She perked up.

"Now's good."

He activated his OmniTool.

Subject: Goto  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
She's here. Meeting? Usual place? I can tell her it's delayed until tomorrow morning.

The reply was as brief as it was expedient.

Subject: ETA  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Be there in 10.

Frick barely enough time. Better hurry.

"K. Miss Goto, we'll have to hurry. Miranda'll have someone get the suitcases."

"Okay."

The pair made it with 30 seconds to spare by the Cipher's clock. Izaias gave a sigh of relief as they entered the room. _Made it._ Miranda was seated at the left seat by the door, as usual, embroiled, working on her datapad.

"Hello Miss Goto."

"Hey."

"You can sit anywhere you want, Miss Goto"

"Okay, thanks Shep. I know you guys are trying to be nice, but enough of the 'Miss Goto' stuff. I'm Kasumi."

Miranda and Izaias nodded, almost in unison. Izaias whispered in Miranda's ear as he walked by.

"Thanks for being here. Kasumi needs her stuff picked up. It's sitting by the main door of hangar 4."

Miranda nodded, smiling ever so slightly. Izaias took a seat at the end, also as usual.

"So, what's the plan...Kasumi?"

She powered up her OmniTool, activating a projection utility.

 _Nice aspect ratio, excellent image clarity, and missing that terrible orange tint. Probably stolen, and very expensive._

"A heist."

A toothy smile was visible under the hood.

"Donovan Hoc hosts a yearly gathering of his favorite criminals from across known space, all paying homage to the 'man' himself. Shepard, as Solomon Gunn, arms dealer, offers Hoc a statue of your old friend, Saren. After disabling the vault security measures, Shepard and I equip ourselves from a stash hidden in the Saren statue. We break into the vault, and get Keiji back."

Kasumi gestured excitedly. _Difficult not to appreciate her ardor._ Miranda wasn't thrilled.

"There are several problems with that plan, the biggest one being you are counting on the ability of a soldier to blend in with criminals who fancy themselves nobility."

Kasumi's shoulders sagged. Izaias changed the subject.

"But I saw a different way. Can you go to that sky-view image? The one you used in that estate slideshow."

Kasumi navigated to an early segment in her video.

"One frame back..." The picture appeared. "...Thanks. Those tubes on the truck look like MkXVI missile fuselages. Military-grade hardware. I'd wager we could get him on a slew of weapon-regulation violations for those alone. They can be used for countless roles depending on the warhead, guidance package, and powerplant, from anti-capital ship, to anti-dropship, to ICBM."

Kasumi stood there.

"...and how do you know this?"

Miranda saved him the trouble.

"He's an ex-marine, explosives expert."

"Yeah, I've seen enough diagrams of those things to fill a book. They were the textbook-favorite for an example of 'contemporary' missile design. I also had to examine the warheads on those things aboard the _Annapolis_."

"...Okay. How does that help us find Keiji?"

"I arrest Hoc. Get Council backing, and charge in during that party you mentioned. Arrests en masse. Police raid. I can vouch that he, indeed, has ICBMs in his basement. WMD's are frowned upon, especially by Citadel law. We would have free reign of his property, assuming there's a judge out there who'd allow us to search a man's house with a picture of a long-range missile in the driveway. We'd tear the place apart, and find Keiji if he's there."

Kasumi's stance hardened, her hood obscuring her face in shadow. _...and she went from 'cute' to 'menacing' in a quarter second._

"He's _there_."

Miranda raised her hand.

"Shepard, _great_ idea. However, you do realize the Council still thinks you're dead and you happen to be working for Cerberus?"

"I know. I'll work on it."

Miranda turned to Kasumi.

"You have room 003 on -1F. Your luggage is there, or will be by the time you arrive. Be ready for tomorrow."

Kasumi waved the pair goodbye, and left the room.

"So how'd she get aboard the station?"

"She hid aboard Joker and Michel's flight."

"Ah."

"She's going to be _fun_ to work with."

"Mmmm. Doubt it."

"I was sarcastic."

Oh. In that case, yes, this will be 'fun'."

"G'night, Miranda."

"Oh wait, you're ready for the _Normandy_ launch tomorrow, correct?"

"Wait...I thought I had two more months. The date changed?"

"I sent the messages out to Cerberus personnel last month. I thought I sent you one as well. We moved the launch up because of the Wilson incident."

 _Not-quite tidy hair, bangs slightly out-of-place, ends stray, lipstick missing on one corner of her mouth. Dark stain on her suit lapel-thing. Oh, frick._

"I'll get my stuff together in the morning."

He rested a hand on her shoulder.

"You're working yourself too hard. You need rest, like the rest of us. Come on."

"But...the report is due _tomorrow_." "

Miranda, I'll help you with your stuff tomorrow. We need sleep." Izaias prevailed, eventually.

* * *

 **November 25, 2184**

* * *

After an expedited packing of his own stuff, moving the items to Hangar 4, finishing some of Miranda's excessive technical and administrative duties to a point at which she was less stressed and overextended, Izaias finally had time to finish his own pre-flight duties. Seated on the folding chair he had neglected to put away, he activated the Cipher's 'text' application.

Subject: Launch  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet, jambalayaandbakedbeans(a)cerberuscommnet, youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet, xiaozhiliang(a)cerberuscommnet, kellyloveseveryone(a)ceberuscommnet, haggis(a)cerberuscommnet, gabbydaniels(a) cerberuscommnet, drcmichel(a)sirtafoundationmailnet, thejeffster(a)skynetmail, keijiokudafangirl(a)csecnetworkmail, jtaylor(a)cerberuscommnet

The Normandy SR-71 is scheduled to arrive today at noon. It will be docked until 4PM, at which point we will depart for Beckenstein. Please contact me, not Miranda Lawson, to confirm you will be at hangar 4 by noon. Thank you for your time. This Izaias T. Shepard if you don't know already.

He checked the clock widget in the upper corner of the Cipher's display. It was 10:45. The device buzzed, an envelope icon indicating a new message.

Subject: Just Checking  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
You do realize the Council still thinks you're dead?

Subject: Reply  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Thanks. Waiting for the SR-2 to dock before I send the communication. Calling them from a Cerberus ship I captain sounds better than calling from a Cerberus station.

Subject: RSVPs  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Got it. Any RSVPs

Subject: RSVPs  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Don't worry. I got it.

He stared at the message. It leered back. He altered it's demeanor.

Subject: RSVPs  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Nothing unforseen. Please, don't worry. I've got it handled.

Subject: RSVPs  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
:(

He raised an eyebrow, smiling to defuse the awkward misgivings. _That's unlike her. Something might be wrong. I'm probably being unreasonable. Better to remain silent. I'll text if she doen't contact me in 10 minutes._ The Cipher buzzed, promising a welcome diversion.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
I thought we weren't leaving for two months. What happened?

Subject: Schedule Change  
To: jambalayaandbakedbeans(a)cerberuscommnet, youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet, xiaozhiliang(a)cerberuscommnet, kellyloveseveryone(a)ceberuscommnet, haggis(a)cerberuscommnet, gabbydaniels(a)cerberuscommnet, drcmichel(a)sirtafoundationmailnet, thejeffster skynetmail, keijiokudafangirl(a)csecnetworkmail, jtaylor(a)cerberuscommnet  
Apparently, I poorly clarified recent timeframe changes. Security concerns spurred upper management to change the schedule short-notice. That's why the Normandy SR-71 is launching at 4PM sharp today.  
-Lt. Cmdr. Izaias T. Shepard

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
RLY group txt?

Subject: Reply  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Yep.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
I need help. Crazy ginger wants to help me with my bags. I think she's hitting on me. :)

 _Why does that not surprise me?_ Izaias sighed, shaking his head and stretching before resuming.

Subject: Warning  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Young woman? Really peppy, short hair?

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster skynetmail  
Ya

Subject: Reply  
To: thejeffster skynetmail  
Kelly Chambers, she's a 'Yeoman', and our resident psych analyst.

Subject: P.S.  
To: thejeffster skynetmail  
My XO will enforce Cerberus' normally lenient anti-fraternization rules to thier fullext extent, FYI.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Is she kellyloveseveryone?

Subject: Reply  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Yeah. The redhead, not the XO

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Oh. Who's XO?

Subject: Reply  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Seen a raven-haired woman in a white jumpsuit?

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Ya ;-]

Subject: Reply  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
That's the XO. Also, that emoticon's really creepy.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
LOL

Subject: Query  
To: youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet  
Paul, your stuff packed?

Subject: Query(reply)  
From: youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet  
Yup. Need something? Forget your rifle?

Subject: Query  
To: youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet  
Kind of. Friend of mine has brittle bones, needs help with his luggage. Jeff Moreau. Best pilot in the universe. Average height, little younger than me, dark-brown hair, bearded and baseball cap. Don't mention his bones.

Subject: Query(reply)  
From: youshallnotpass(a)cerberuscommnet  
Got it. Thanks for the info. I'll get the composite sketch circulated.

Subject: Bags  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Paul Bloodworth, SR-71's new seceurity head, is going to help you with your bags.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Nice

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
What's the deal with SR-71?

Subject: SR-71  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
1960's airplane reference.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Nerd

Subject: SR-71  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Yep

Izaias checked the clock icon, which now read '11:00'. The device buzzed indicating a new message. The icon clarified this, indicating six new meassages. _Oops._ He started scrolling through the messages, the latest of which was timestamped 5 minutes ago.

Subject: RSVP  
From: Jambalayaandbakedbeans(a)cerberuscommnet  
10 minutes out.

Subject: RSVP  
From: xiaozhiliang(a)cerberuscommnet  
OMW

Subject: RSVP  
From: kellyloveseveryone(a)ceberuscommnet  
I'm coming :) :)

Subject: RSVP  
From: gabbydaniels(a)cerberuscommnet  
Ken lost his hydrospanner(among other things). We'll be there in 15ish.

"Boo!"

This was accompanied by an admittedly very gentle shove. Izaias shouted, whirling around, tripping and landed flat on the floor with great fanfare. Izaias' frame of view, twisted sideways, afforded him enough visibility to make out a dark, hooded, body suit shimmering into view.

"Sorry. Didn't realize you startle that easy."

Iziaias groaned, hand on his back, taking several minutes to recuperate. He swallowed and blinked several times. Kasumi's tone was timid.

"You okay, Shep?"

"Sure. I'll take that as your RSVP."

Izaias began to right himself when a distinctively accented voice pierced the scene.

"Shepard, is that you? What 'appened?"

"I fell. It's fine, Chloe."

"Oh."

She turned to Kasumi.

"...and you are?"

Kasumi stepped around the SPECTRE.

"Kasumi Goto"

They shook hands before Dr. Michel spoke.

"Oh, 'ow rude of me. I am Dr. Chloe Michel, at your service."

"s' okay"

The two began a conversation Izaias did his best to ignore. Righting his chair by the wall, some thirty feet away, the back agianst a pillar and seating himself, he resumed checking the Cipher's messaging inbox.

Subject: RSVP  
From: jtaylor(a)cerberuscommnet  
Stopping by the armory, will collect firearms. There by 11:30.

Subject: RSVP  
From: keijiokudafangirl(a)csecnetworkmail  
Running late...

 _Running late my butt. Glad she's nice at least **.**_

Stretching, he moved his extensive collection of items closer. _As I have nothing to do, might as well double-check._ _Mattock case, check. Phalanx case, check. Evicerator case, check. Suitcase of every comfortable garment that didn't have a cerberus logo, check._ He shook his head. It was a large suitcase, but pants, socks, and undergarments constituted the majority of the contents. Every shirt or jacket had a logo somewhere. _I'll stop by the Citadel once lives aren't in danger._ _Emergency EVA suit bag, check. Coathanger, check. Bag with my appliances, check. Mini fridge, check._

"HEY Shepard!"

Jeff's vibrant voice was difficult to mistake. Izaias glanced over to the main door, his gaze taking in Michel and Kasumi, still engrossed in conversation, for a fraction of a second. Jeff was the only person in sight, aside from the doctor and thief.

"Hey Jeff. Where's Paul?"

"He's with the other people..." Jeff motoned over to the door. "..loading some big flat orange frieght vehicles."

"...What other people?"

"Some Cerberus officer dude, and a bunch of grunts." Jeff's tone adopted a quicker, more youthful tone. "HEY, I didn't know captains get mini-fridges. You negiotate hard for that one?"

"No he didn't. It was supposed to stay in the room."

Jeff's voice and demeanor quieted. Izaias turned his head, smiling.

"Hello Miranda."

She had two suitcases in tow, and a rather large purse slung from a shoulder.

"Hello, Shepard." She walked up to Jeff, extending her hand. "Izaias has told me a lot about you."

Smiling smugly, Jeff shook her hand, adopting a bravado Izaias had rarely seen before. _Please don't tell me he's hitting on my XO._

"We go back...me and Shepard."

Miranda, disengaging from the handshake, remained impassive.

"The stories made that quite clear."

She lifted her arm, the handbag falling down, and delaying the motion significantly.

"It's almost 11:30 Miranda."

She had recomposed herself within two seconds.

"Thanks, Shepard."

Sliding metal and actuating hydraulics gave way to the rapid clack of a woman's high-heeled shoes. Heads turned, some more briefly than others. Kelly Chambers, grinning and clad in an apparently fashionable outfit covered by a fur-accentuated jacket, had a distinctly masucline large, rugged-looking leather bag suspended over her shoulder, the strap across her chest for maximum support. Izaias was surprised she remain upright in heels, albeit short ones, with the huge bag behind her.

"Hi guys!"

Kasumi, and following timidly, Michel advanced towards the door. Jeff perked up.

"...Soooo we gonna go meet and greet?"

Miranda and Izaias, in unison, spoke.

"No."

Joker, eyes wide, became awkwardly diplomatic.

"...Okayyyy. Well, I'm gonna go over there."

Miranda was first to reply.

"...So why are still here?"

Joker left as quickly as his gait allowed him.

Silence lasted several minutes. _Why does this feel distinctly uncomfortable?_ Izaias broke the silence.

"...well is there anything else I need to know?"

"No. I think we covered everything."

"Great...Need a seat? Chair's over there."

She sighed, blinking away what he presumed was fatigue. "No, but I think I'll take it. Thank you."

A more amicable, reassuring, quiet, underscored by the voices thirty feet away, followed until the doors yawned, yet again. This time, their opening was accompanied by measured electronic tones and numerous footfalls, some noticeably heavier. Izaias checked his OmniTool. It was 11:45. Two large carts, accompanied by Taylor, Liáng, Bloodworth, Gardener, Daniels, Donnely, several uniformed Cerberus personnel likely there to assist loading, and two armored Cerberus soldiers.

He looked over to Miranda. Her head was slumped backwards over the chair's backrest. _Overworked._ Shaking his head, he gave a chair leg a nudge. Further inactivity spurred him to tap her shoulder. She responded instantaneously. She sat up, alert and wide-eyed, a purple haze enveloping her forearm. She relaxed momentarily.

"Supplies arrived."

"I...that doesn't happen to me. Glad we're out of the way."

"You know sleeping when you have the time is okay?"

"I _don't_ have the time."

"Okay..."

"Someone called you. You'd better go see to the troops."

"Geneticially modified hearing?"

"Goes with the rest."

"Good to know. You wouldn't mind keeping my stuff safe?"

"We're the ones in charge of loading."

"It's almost like we're the lead officers."

He offered a hand. Before Miranda did anything, he thought better of it, and withdrew.

"You know what?"

Her expression conveyed a sense of irritated curiosity.

"What?"

"We're missing something."

"...and just _what_ would that be?"

"The ship isn't here yet."

She stood up.

"We can still organize supplies at the docking tube. Anyways, it should be here any minute."

Izaias' shoulders dropped.

"Oh. ...Well now I feel bad."

"You should."

A smirk indicating it wasn't entirely truthful followed.

A shudder, causing them both to stagger, produced a distinct silence in the hangar before the intercom blared. A tired, stagnant male voice was broadcast all-too-loudly.

"The Normandy SR-Seven One has docked at hangar four. Please, all crew report to said hangar."

Miranda tilted her head and raised eyebrow.

"Why are you always right?"

"You get used to it."

 _Whatever, princess._ He fell in line. Expectant eyes turned towards the XO and Captain of the _Normandy_ SR-71. The pair pulled up, standing several feet apart in front of the group. Shifting his shoulders and clearing his voice, Izaias spoke.

"As we've got places to go and things to do, I'd appreciate it if we can get things aboard as fast as possible. Crates in the storage rooms behind you are individually labelled as to where they go. All personal belongings will be dropped off in the central area of the creatively named 'Crew Deck'. All hands will be expected to assist in moving supplies to where they belong. We have four hours. I'd like this done in one. Any questions?"

No one but Joker raised thier hand.

"...and anyone with disabilities or conditions that preclude them from heavy lifting will be excused."

Joker's hand dropped.

"Good. Dismissed. Jeff Moreau, I'd like you in the pilot's seat, ready to book it to Beckenstein as soon as everything's aboard."

Izaias turned to Miranda.

"I would appreciate it if you'd run things inside. I'll coordinate out here. Same orders under the same conditions for those inside."

"Consider it done." She nodded briefly, and departed up the ramp.

Izaias looked around, Michel's green unifrom nowhere to be found.

"DR. CHLOE!"

A petite hand rose over a crowd by the storage units. It took a minute for her to extricate herself.

"What is it, Shepard?"

Her gaze was intent, without being too focused, reminded him his drill sergeant many years ago.

"Can you roam around, address any minor injuries? Your medical supplies are priority #1 right now. I'll get them in the med bay."

"I can do zat."

"The injuries are more likely to occur in the ship."

"You think so?"

Izaias' resolve faltered. _It seemed like a logical statement._

"I think I do."

"Okay zen."

She turned and left, moving quickly without rushing. _Amazing how different people can act._ He turned to the madhouse, making his way through the crowd. Kelly Chambers, looking more frayed than he'd seen her ever before, managed timid authority in an amazing, rather haphazardly halting, fashion.

"Okay..now this says 'engineering'. Can someone...anyone?"

The box aside her began to move.

"No, no, no, _this_ one."

She pointed, emphazising her words even more. The box on her other side slowly levitated away.

"Kelly, Thanks, I got this..." He lowered his voice, leaning in. "There's a chair by the back wall, sit if you need to. When you're done, can you move Miranda and I's things to our rooms? Her suitcases have her name on them, and her purse is atop them. My stuff is in that sloppy pile. If anyone asks, you're under my orders."

She took a deep breath, wiping her forehead.

"Yeah."

She walked off. _I have newfound respect for that woman._ Sighing, Izaias steeled himself for the approaching hour.

"Okay...You three, that box. Medical supplies. DANIELS? DONNELY?"

He looked around. The crowd was small enough to determine they weren't there. _Forget it._ Six in differently-styled Cerberus uniforms exited the _Normandy_. _Reinforcements. Mirdana's Godsend._ He turned arond, trying to remember what Michel's containers looked like. Seconds seemed like minutes. He spied them.

"Paul, Rupert, those containers in back, the green ones..." He paused for a split-second. _Michel must have a thing for green, now that I think about it._ "...Those belong in the med bay as well."

An hour and twenty minutes passed like this; hurried orders, suppressed panic, stolen glances at various cargo, interrupted by hasitily directing people in what one hoped was the right direction. Iziaias would later reflect that this was what combat was like, just with death thrown into the mix.

Izaias, feeling far too tired for an hour and a half workout, trudged through the boarding tube after verifying everything had been moved, which it had. The door at the end opened to reveal an all-too familiar hallway, which lead to an all-too-familiar CIC. He awaited to hear 'Commander Shepard has the bridge, Pressley stands relieved' for several moments before the rational part of his brain determined that his irrational half was full of it. An all-too-familiar voice came from his left.

"Commander, glad you're here. It's great, isn't it? Almost exactly the same, but _better_."

Joker's glee was apparent in his tone and the fact that he spun in his chair several times.

"I got LEATHER seats. I really love leather seats."

Izaias couldn't help but smile.

"I can tell."

Izaias looked around.

"I take it Miranda has things spick-and-span?"

Joker's eyes widened and childish demeanor vanished.

"Yeah. She's like you, but without the fun side."

"I didn't think I had a 'fun' side."

"It's hard to see. Anyways, there's one hiccup."

He waved his hand over a flat section, off to the left of the pilots seat.

A blue sphere, with some sort of holographic neck, appeared. _...The hell? Talking eyeball?_

"Hello, Flight Leutenant Moreau."

Least it's polite.

Izaias, still mystified, hooked a thumb in his belt.

"...So what _is_ it?"

"It's that annoying feature they throw in new cars that make the old ones worth buying."

"...and the technical name for that feature would be?"

Miranda's voice cut into the conversation, glacial as ever.

"A central shipboard AI."

Izais turned to her, and Jeff turned to his controls.

"Preflight checks are finished. Beginning launch."

Izaias followed Miranda back towoards the main CIC.

"Aren't those _very_ illegal?"

" _Thechnicially,_ yes. We've shackled her so she doesn't have enough control of her own faculties to be considered a full AI."

"Okay...so what's she do?"

"EDI is a security monitoring feature and, by default, operates cyberwarfare systems."

"Okay, any other features I should be aware of?"

"It's more of 'what features had been eliminated'. Due to the altered scheduling, certain features couldn't be installed. More common parts already in the shipyard's inventory were substituted for advanced projects and systems Cerberus had en route."

"Okay...what you got?"

"Again, it's 'what you haven't got'. An experimental Thanix cannon, derived from analysis of Sovereign's main weapons, advanced Silaris armor, Multicore Shielding units, advanced sensor suites, and an advanced fuel-propulsion package were replaced with more mundane..and less effective...counterparts."

He shrugged. "We'll spend a couple months in drydock. No problem. Anyways, I've got some laundry I'd like to do. You know where the machines are?"

"That's listed under 'minor ammenities' that had been cut."

 _Another errand I need to run after Beckenstein and Omega._ "What other 'minor ammenities' had been cut?"

"Nothing special..." She scanned her tablet. "Most of it's minor convienence items, and some redundant electrical work, and then the specs get really technical."

"Engineer speak? Calling teeter-totters 'recreation fulcrums' and the like?"

She shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. Thanks, Miranda. I've got to contact the Council. Directions?"

"The floor plan is relatively simple. The lab and armory rooms flank the conference room. All three rooms are linked by a central hallway, behind the elevator, which is that central door behind the center console. Also, area maps for the decks are broadcast on a universal frequency. You can access them any time from your OmniTool."

"Thanks again."

"Good luck, Izaias."

He nodded before leaving. After a short circumnavigation of the center console and a jog through the armory and accompanying hallway, Izaias entered what he'd been told was the 'conference' room. A large table, stylishly adorned with a faux wood inlay, dominated the space as its only feature, aside from the lights. The room was decorated in the same manner as every other Cerberus product. Spatial decor was limited to stark, steel-grey metal, white and an occasional black accent, ususally in the form of a Cerberus logo.

Subject: I don't know what I'm doing  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
How do you input a destination into the comm unit?(like, how do you call someone)  
P.S: How to activate it would be great too.

"I'm used to it by now."

Izaias, surprised jumped, and wheeled around. Miranda stood there, head angled and an eyebrow raised, mentally analyzing the unexpeted reaction.

"Sorry."

"I should be used to _that_."

"What?"

"You entering a room and going straight to conversation."

"Hmm... Anyways. There are two possible routes. Access panel on the far wall. Also, Kelly can arrange a call from her terminal."

"Cool. By the way, where are the chairs?"

A grim smile coupled with an equally grim chuckle.

"Another thing R&D didn't have time for."

"So, our main gun's underpowered, our armor's standard, shields are okay, fuel capacity's limited, sensors are slow, laundry machines are nonexistant, and our conference room doesn't have chairs?"

"That would be accurate. And I wanted to tell you. Instead of calling me, EDI can answer questions about ship construction, functions, or appliances. She has a terminal in most rooms."

"Thanks. One more thing. What happens when a call goes through? Standard mid-table holo display?"

"No..." She shook her head. "...The table folds in, and it's a room-wide holo-room"

Izaias smirked.

"...and now we know where R&D spent all their time."

"I wager we do. I'll inspect the rest of the ship before I get to my office. See if there's any other R&D shortfalls. Good luck with the Council."

"Thanks."

He walked over to the end wall, looking for a panel release. He gave up after 10 minutes.

"EDI, where's the panel release?"

A vicious tone manifested itself . "The panel release is 10 centimeters starboard of your right hand, meatbag."

Finding a three inch square panel flush amidst the wall adjacent to the much larger panel covering the console, Izaias quickly input the Council contact information once the main panel opened, saving the contact in the library. He activated his OmniTool again.

Subject: Cut It  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
I see you found EDI's options menu. Cut it. Set EDI's voice to 'normal'.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
plllbbbbbbttt

Subject: ?  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
What the heck was that supposed to be?

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Rasberry

Subject: Later  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
I honestly thought that was a fart. I'll come up there and we can try the voice settings out. Which was that one?

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
'Violent'

Subject: Please  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
I kinda like it, but it's too politicially incorrect for our ship AI. I am calling the council. Please, no antics, at least for the next hour.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Yeah. Hang up on em for me.

Subject: Question  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
You know I never did that, right?

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Yeah. Pansy.

Subject: Laugh it up, Fuzzball  
To: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Love you too, man.

Subject: (none)  
From: thejeffster(a)skynetmail  
Touché

Izaias checked over the message settings, and sent a comm. request. After a seeming eternity, it was granted. The lights dimmed, the table descended, and a cover filled the empty space. _Theatrical. I should be used to Cerberus' excessive panache._ He walked up to the center of the room, dramaticially lit from above.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

After a delay, a Salarian was projected. As his was not a 3-D compatible display, he appeared as a large 2-dimensional screen. _Frick, Salarian. They're never friendly._ The Salarian, apparently annoyed, adopted an urbanely belligerent tone.

"Yes. How did you get this contact information? This is the SPECTRE channel."

Izaias, doing his best to be cordial, ignored the aggressive tone. "Hello, sir. I am former SPECTRE Izaias Shepard, and I'm not dead."

"We had one human SPECTRE. He's dead."

The Salarian looked away, down to where, presumably, his control console was. _Oh, come on. Don't hang up!_ Izaias was fortunate these words didn't come out of his mouth.

"I _am_ that guy."

"Fine then, please answer one of these security questions. 'What street you grew up on', 'Your first pet', 'Your mother's maiden name', or 'Your first personal transportation vehicle'."

The Salarian looked at Izaias with dull expectation. Izaias thought hard, trying to remember what information he had given. The realization was humorous only in hindsight.

"I was listed as 'dead' before they instituted that system. I have my ID number."

The Salarian continued to gaze blankly.

"Nope. Sorry. That stuff's public domain. Accountability. How about a known associate..." The Salarian stared off frame again. "...a 'Gaurrus Vekarian' or 'Talee Zorah ves Namma Nar Rayya'.

If only... I should ignore the butchered pronunciations.

"I am not capable of contacting those individuals at the moment."

Imperious sarcasm crept deeper into the Salarian's tone.

"...Convenient."

"How about Jeff Moreau?"

"Who's he?"

Glad Jeff's not here.

"Another close associate. Not on record?"

"Not on my display."

"How about I prove I know the Councilors. Will Sparatus' favorite phrase do?"

"If I hear a 'notion disapproval' joke out of you, I will cut the transmission."

"Okay then. Kahlee Sanders should be listed as Anderson's emergency contact."

The Salarian paused, then went to his apparent comfort zone. He looked off camera. "Hmm... That is correct. I'll contact you in half an hour. SPECTREs don't come back from the dead...often"

The video feed cut. Izaias felt the plate under him moving, which triggered fears and reflexes previously unconsidered. He sidestepped quickly to the main floor, with a new appreciaton for static floor plating. _Apparently, R &D skipped installing a weight sensor. Shoddy._ He exited the room, turning right, supposedly heading towards the lab. He arrived at the door, which lit up red and didn't respond. _I am going to send R &D a snarky e-mail. If I have my way._

"EDI, unlock the lab doors, please."

''Yes, Shepard."

There was a long pause.

"The hydraulics don't seem to be responding."

"Dandy."

Izaias turned around, going back through the armory.

"Done already?"

"Nope. They're going to get back to me."

Jacob resumed tinkering with his rifle, the sound of clashing parts fending off complete silence. Izaias continued, exiting the room and returning to the CIC. Kelly turned, smiling and animated as ever. Her hands clasped together, adding yet another layer of activity. _At least I know she isnt' sitting still doing nothing._

"Everything work out?"

"Sort of, they'll get back to me. If Kasumi asks, the gears are in motion."

Her expression degraded to a playful smirk and one eye closed halfway. Timidity was evident.

"I think its' 'wheels'."

"You're right. Thanks. I'm going up front."

Her normal cheer resumed. She waved.

"Bye."

Izaias, without a backwards glance, returned the wave.

"Later, Kelly."

 _Kinda cute, in a non-attractive, faintly disturbing way._ He navigated around the central console. His OmniTool vibrated.

Subject: R&D  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
No additional glaring issues besides a possible critical reactor venting mishap which would purge engineering deck.

Subject: R&D  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
What did you mean by 'purge'?

Subject: R&D  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Aerosolized, superheated, coolant capable of melting flesh off bone flooding the deck.

Subject: R&D  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
Oh. That's bad.

Subject: R&D  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
No kidding. Apparently, GX-12 thermal piping will solve the issue. Problem is the parts are obsolete.

Subject: R&D  
To: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
I'm really starting to hate R&D. The conference room almost ate me. The table slides up even if you're on the cover panel.

Subject: R&D  
From: mlawson(a)cerberuscommnet  
I would laugh if I didn't just spend a year and a half bringing you back to life. Probably wouldn't have been fatal.

He had arrived at Jeff's station by now.

"So, I take it you were trying to ammend the annoying voice?"

Joker held up a pointer finger. He interacted with a control surface, turning around after he did so.

"Now, we won't crash. Autopilot's taking care of things. ...And not really. Just thought I'd mess around. It's far too boring out here."

"So, can you preview the other options?"

"Sure"

His fingers danced over a control panel suspended over to his left.

"Whoah wait a minute. That's a password screen. What's the password?"

"'12345'. I don't think Cerberus wasted brain cells on that one."

 _I'll go ahead and change that._

"I don't think that'll stay for long."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted. You can adjust soooo many things from here. See...and...viola."

Jeff interacted with the display for half a second. The ship's holographic displays promptly changed from a sedate orange to vibrant green, then to neon pink. Exclamations were audible from the main CIC.

"Jeff..."

It was obivous the younger man rolled his eyes, even from behind.

"...orange it is."

"So...voice demos?"

Jeff's demeanor and tone brightened.

"Clicky Clicky"

Jeff interacted with a side interface, and a central display expanded. he stared intently at the screen.

"Well, we got 'default', then 'Empathetic', whatever that is..."

Izaias interrupted.

"Can we demo that one?"

A unmistakably feminine, reassuring voice rang out from the audio systems. An young adult female avatar, reproduced in a softer blue, much closer to cyan, than EDI's orignal representation, clad only in what could be described as digitized purple tatoos, mimed the lines.

"Don't make a girl a promise...if you know you can't keep it."

"She's nice."

Jeff grinning mischeviously, looked behind at Izaias, who remained impassive.

"It's...a tad risque, but not bad. What's the second-to-last one?"

"We can find out in a sec...and boop."

A cold and unnervingly synthetic male voice spoke.

"Dave, what are you doing?"

Jeff and Izaias glanced at each other, silently communicating unnerved disapproval.

"...Just...nope."

Jeff shook his head as he tapped on the next 'personality'.

The cabin's speakers produced a dispassionate, even-toned masculine voice.

"The first rule of robotics states that..."

The cursor moved to the red circle 'cancel' icon, and clicked.

"Thanks, Jeff."

"I would've done it anyways."

"Last one. Better be good."

"It's called 'stately'. Who labels an AI personality 'stately'? I can see it now. 'Welcome to the CIC, Shepard. Cup o' tea?'"

"I take it you don't like 'stately'?"

"Am I ever 'stately'?"

Izaias chuckled.

"No. One of your defining characteristics."

"I thought it was the amazing beard."

"It's particularly average, to be honest."

Jeff adopted an affectatious feminine tone.

"Your words wound me"

"Jeff, voice demo."

"Oh fine."

He navigated the cursor down, clicking the final entry. A distinctly accented, deliberative, pseudo-human voice spoke.

"Human-cyborg relations are my primary function."

"You know he'll tell you the odds."

Jeff laughed. "You're right, they do sound alike. Proof that 20th century refrences aren't dead."

"I'm not so sure we're good examples of people with contemporary tastes."

Jeff's tone, playful to begin with, adopted a comic level of disingenuity.

"NOW what does _that_ mean?"

"You regularly reference movies from centuries ago, and I'm..." He caught himself before continung to say '...in love with a Quarian girl'. The effortlessness of the fluid recovery surprised him. "...the only one aboard who gets those references. Also, I like that 'c**p from the 1980's' you gripe about so often during deep-space travel. Don't you have like a million songs in your library?"

"I like commercials...I get so much of my material from them."

"I think that's the most profound comment I've heard from you yet."

"Was that _supposed_ to be a comeback?"

"No, half-finished..."

Izaias cut himself off after registering Kelly voice over intercom.

"Leutenant-Commander Shepard to Conference room, the Council's on the main line."

He looked over. She waved.

"Jeff, I think I fear that woman."

Jeff motioned oddly.

"I kinda like her."

"Bye. Forget what I said. Put EDI on 'Default' 'Sympathetic' for me."

"Already done, commander."

Jeff's seat spun him back to his station, and Izaias went to face the Council.

* * *

The conference room door closed behind Izaias with the customary noises, and a finality he later realized was imagined. He walked over to the empty space the floor cover was already seating itself over, and waited for the transmission to initialize, ready to face the three of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy for the first time in nearly two years. He steeled himself for Sparatus' doubt, Velern's polite needling, and Tevos' unassuming obstinance, glad that relations with them had improved since his induction as SPECTRE. He corrected his posture, standing tall with hands behind his back before the holographic projection in front of him flared to life.

The Salarian was back. Izaias couldn't help but look concerned.

"...Hello again. There something wrong?"

"You're there? No. Linking you now."

The projection flashed again, changing to a depiction of a rather ornately and tastefully decorated room, dominated by an exceptionally large table. Officious decor, obviously designed long ago, dominated the far wall. The councilors sat at the far end, Tevos and Velern seated, respectively, to Sparatus' right and left.

Shepard, saluting, nodded his head.

"Councilors..."

Tevos' expectant posture softened into one of consideration while Sparatus remained steely-eyed. Velarn was firmly planted in the back of his chair. _Well, nothing unexpected happened._

"Where have you been, Shepard?"

Sparatus' accusatory tone did little to affect those around him. _Also, not unexpected._

"I was out of commission for the last year-and-a-half, and was recovering from said coma for the past several months. I'm contacting you now that I'm fit for duty."

Tevos' concerned reaction was mirrored by Sparatus' further distrust.

"You still haven't told us _where_ you recovered."

"I will answer your question, Councilor Sparatus, but where's Councilor Anderson?"

"Recused himself."

Sparatus flat tone synthesized with his stony, still demeanor, the other two shifted slightly, defusing the palpable tenstion.

"On to your question then. Firstly, I firmly believe the Cerberus group to be untrustworthy. Secondly, My recovery and medical treatment was funded by the previously stated group aboard a station of theirs. Thirdly, I am currently employed by said group investigating the disappearances of colonists, admittedly primarily humans, and the colonies they inhabited. They have given me an 'out'. If the Council feels that I will not be serving galactic interests by participating in this venture, I will cease working for Cerberus. Finally, I humbly request the Citadel's official backing to arrest of a Beckenstein arms dealer for the abduction and possible murder of a 'Mr. Keiji Okuda'. I have photographic proof Donovan Hoc, the arms dealer in question, in possession of Alliance MkXVI missile fuselages, which are state-of-the-art heavy missile platforms. I do not have hard evidence of Mr. Okuda's confinement, but it's almost certain he's either dead or incarcerated. If the Council sees fit, I would be extremely grateful and proud to accept re-appointment as SPECTRE."

Councilor Tevos began to respond before Sparatus inadvertently cut her off. Velern sat in his seat, watching wide-eyed, which, for a Salairan, wasn't difficult.

"You want our backing while you are employed by a human terrorist organization?"

"Sir, I _ideally_ want your backing. I submit to your judgement. I will respect your decision no matter the outcome. I have highlighted a possible threat to galactic security, and am humbly asking for my former position back. I don't trust Cerberus any more than you do. I've seen what they do."

This time, Tevos preempted Sparatus' reply with her own.

"Shepard has reliably acted in our best interests, and tried to inform us again and again of what he saw as a threat. Or has 2183 already faded from your memory? ...Cerberus is going to employ someone to do their dirty work. Why not someone we know has our best interests in mind?"

Even Izaias noticed the predatory gleam in Sparatus' eyes.

"You propose a double agent?"

Velern seized his opportunity.

"It seems she does."

The Turian's gaze remained levelly on Tevos, who nodded. He turned towards Izaias, or, more accurately, the holocam serving as Izaias' eyes.

"The Council cannot 'officially' support a Cerberus operative..." Tevos gave him concerned glare. "...However, we can support a SPECTRE who...went 'dark' for a time and resurfaced...coincidentally when his...operation was resolved. We can't have a media firestorm. Tensions with the Alliance and Hegemony are high, and Cerberus isn't as much of a 'shadow' organization as it used to be. Don't make me regret this, Shepard."

The old Turian eyed Shepard, his gaze as level as it was direct. _..and oddly intimidating from countless of light-years away._

Councilor Tevos interweaving her fingers, focused on the camera.

"If you need to use your privileges as SPECTRE, please do so in a way that precludes..or..at least...conceals _any_ connections with Cerberus. We have faith in you, Shepard."

"...Ummm..about that arms dealer?"

 _How Velarn...Valern manages to be both assertive and nervous continues to amaze._

Sparatus nodded.

"...That...unlike your reinstatement should be easily addressed. Beckenstein is firmly in Council space."

Izaias adopted his most urbane and inoffensive tone, making sure his caedence was even.

"I would like to be on-site for the arrest. It's a gathering, and odds are there will be additional...undesirables present. Also, I would like to aid in finding Mr. Okuda. Do I need to be physicailly present for reinstatement?"

Velern, to Izaias surprise, was the first to respond.

"That is a formality. Additionally, as _we_ wrongly pulled your clearance after declaring you dead _without_ a body, you shouldn't have had your credentials negated in the first place."

 _Well, this went far better than I expected. Guess Hackett saving them paid off._

"Before this transimision cuts, I would like to point out, Shepard, that this makes us even."

Izaias chalked Sparatus' mandible twitch up to an attempted grin.

The video feed died.


	9. Love Must Die, Ch 7

There's no chance for us  
It's all decided for us  
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us  
Who wants to live forever  
( _Who Wants to Live Forever_ , Queen)

* * *

 **November 27, 2184**

* * *

The Normandy SR-71 had exited Serpent Nebula relay 31 hours ago, entered the Boltzmann system's space 3 hours ago, and was slicing through the emptiness towards Beckenstein presently. Two men, viewing the vast expanse before them, ate an early lunch. Izaias, finishing his rehydrated pasta, set the bowl aside and turned to Jeff Moreau.

"Am I the only one who thinks we need better rations?"

"Sure. You mind getting me seconds?"

"...Wait a minute...You just agreed with me these were sub-par."

"Doesn't mean I'll say 'no' to a second...or third helping of mac'n'cheese."

"Duplicitous...and yeah, I'll be back."

He turned to leave, and thought better of it.

"How far out are we?"

Jeff pulled up, magnified, and examined one of the numerous digital displays at his disposal.

"...two hours. We'll be there by noon."

"By the way, once the _Normandy_ establishes a high-altitude loitering pattern over the Northern hemisphere, Kasumi and I'll take a kodiak to Hoc's villa."

"Got it, boss-man."

Izaias, voicing this as he walked away, refocused on his all-important mission. mac'n'cheese wasn't going to fetch itself.

* * *

Izaias stood in one of the SR-71's two kodiak shuttles, dressed in slacks; a collared shirt and a Cerberus-issue shielded assault vest; his Phalanx occupying his leather shoulder holster as it so often did. The vests, luckily, bore the Cerberus logo only on their heavy off-white fabric tags. Hannah Dietrich, the SR-71's only dedicated shuttle pilot, was seated in the armored cabin section; the heavy door hydraulically propped ajar. The whining engines, various status lights, and turbulence testified to the immanent takeoff. Izaias registered a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey."

He was proud to have only flinched.

"Ready, Kasumi?"

"Yeah, Shep."

Figuring the push on the back was intended as reassuring, he walked up to the fore door rapping once.

"Finally ready?"

"Almost..."

Izaias uploaded the coordinates and a flight path C-sec had arranged for earlier to the Shuttle's nav systems.

"Coordinates for a vacant lot C-sec's coordinating the landings from. You can drop us off there."

The engines' whine grew in volume before the door cut off everything except the dull vibrations and throbbing hum.

"Strap in. atmo-entry isn't gentle."

The shuttle lurched as it took flight, Izaias stumbling and experiencing a great deal more difficulty than Kasumi, who had secured herself moments before. The cabin door's hydraulics gently creaked as the door closed.

* * *

Izaias, who could stand now that the shuttle was skimming along at altitude over Milgrom, stared out the window. The hulking superstructure of the largest planetary spaceport in the Serpent nebula, Carl F. Gauss Interstellar Port, dominated the local skyline. It was among the top 100 of the Milky Way's largest privately operated planetary spaceports.

"It's amazing..."

Kasumi was dismissive.

"It's Beckenstein."

The colossal megatropolis below was shortly replaced by mindless, expansive suburbs, which were then replaced by opulent vineyards and resorts sprawled out among the land, with ample lawns between and amongst them. Eventually, the Kodiak arrived above a plain dirt field where rusty metal and formidable concrete stuck out of the ground as reminders of a failed venture. White-accented blue shuttles were arrayed in several columns and rows in the largest, flattest portion of the field. The agents milling about were not yet visible.

The shuttle intercom blared.

"Brace yourself, setting down."

The rapid descent was something Izaias had experienced all too often. It brought back happy memories of going on an adventure in the best vehicle known to man aside someone he loved.

 _I miss Tali._

His bitter reflection was jarred out of mind by the impact of landing.

The cabin door swung out.

"Sorry, not my best landing."

"Anything you can walk away from..."

"...is worth thanking your lucky stars for. Have fun, kids."

The main door on Izaias' side opened, all too slowly for Kasumi's tastes.

Kasumi held her stomach, walking with an odd pace.

Izaias looked on, concerned.

"You okay?"

His question was quickly answered.

Kasumi quickly cleared the shuttle moving to the side, head down, arm braced against a leg. She made several unpleasant noises, breathed deeply for a couple seconds, eventually recovering.

 _"That_ ….was _horrible_. _How_ was that a good landing?"

"Military shuttles aren't built for comfort. That was gentle compared to high-altitude insertion in a MAKO."

"If I'm flying on those shuttles, we need to go slower."

"I'll let Hannah know."

They made their way to the assembled shuttles. A heavily-built Turian detached himself from a group and began making his way towards them. Several antennas built into a larger shoulder piece differentiated him further from the others.

"I wonder if he's in charge?"

"Probably."

"You don't get sarcasm, do you?"

"...Not one of my strong suits."

Kasumi shook her head. The three had arrived at a common point. The Turian saluted.

"Caius Scipio, C-sec. I take it you're the infamous SPECTRE."

Izaias returned the salute.

"Pleased to meet you, agent Scipio..." He motioned to Kasumi. "This is Kasumi Goto, our...anonymous...informant."

The agent nodded while Kasumi waved innocently.

"Is there any further information, or can we get this over with?"

Izaias and Kasumi paused for a moment. Izaias raised an eyebrow.

"...not to my knowledge."

The Turian turned around, directing his voice elsewhere.

"MOUNT UP. We're going..." He glanced back to the two humans. "...you two can use the spare seats in my shuttle."

He boarded the nearest shuttle.

Kasumi tapped Izaias' shoulder.

"Is it just me, or are his people skills a little...underwhelming"

Her voice was a low whisper.

"It's pretty normal for Turians, but yeah. On the positive side, we'll be arresting Hoc and a bunch of other low lifes, and be back on the _Normandy_ by dinner."

"...We're here for _Keiji_."

"...right, sorry."

Caius poked his head out of the shuttle.

"What's going on out here?"

The SPECTRE and former thief quickly boarded the shuttle.

* * *

The group of shuttles, after a short flight, began a long banking maneuver before bleeding altitude and setting down. It was difficult to tell by the scenery, as the C-sec shuttles had tinted windows with additional armored slats affixed, presumably to increase the anonymity and safety of the occupants. The shuttle pilot's voice rang out, accompanied by the hissing release of the door atmospheric seals.

"Captain Scipio, we have landed."

"Good..." The captain placed a hand on his omni-tool, which had just activated. "...Agents, while I expect this operation to go smoothly, _if_ there is resistance, use beanbag rounds unless _absolutely_ necessary. The extra paperwork isn't worth it."

Caius deployed an Avenger rifle with demonstrable wear, especially to the once-blue C-SEC finish, from its magnetic hardsuit 'holster'.

While Izaias had noted the Avenger rifles anchored to agents' backs, he just now noticed the modified lower barrel and associated housing, which were both distinctly bulkier than normal. The magazine directly fore of the trigger guard served to delineate the difference further.

He drew his Phalanx, keying the Omni-Tool interface to DISRUPTOR rounds.

 _It should work._

The agents filed en masse to the gate of Hoc Villa. Izaias made out shouting, a single Avenger rifle discharge, and the whine of a gate. The march continued unabated. Guards, identified as Eclipse by their bright yellow armor, in the aerocar-filled front clearing quickly made their way to the group.

Izaias made his way to Captain Scipio's vicinity, Kasumi following the SPECTRE.

"Captain, if you take care of the men outside, I can lead the team inside."

"Done. The civilian will have to stay outside Mr. Hoc's premises."

"I _have_ a name."

"I forgot it."

The gruff Turian led three agents to the oncoming guards.

Izaias, making his way to the front of the group, raised an arm to rally the rest. The stairs were quickly negotiated.

 _It's wonderful when things go so smoothly._

Three armed guards came through each of the two front doors.

 _Damn._

The leader, an Asari with extensive white markings adorning her uniform.

"This is private property. We'd appreciate it if you left."

Izaias brandished his SPECTRE ID from his belt.

"…and I'd appreciate it if you'd get out of my way, and notify your mercs that interfering in a Council investigation is a crime."

One of the guardsmen cocked his head.

"This is Beckenstein, a human settlement."

Izaias, replacing his ID, made his way to the door, unfazed.

"This is the Serpent Nebula, all of which is under _Council_ …and, by extension, C-sec, jurisdiction."

A hectic fifteen minutes, and 47 independent arrests followed.

* * *

Izaias, closing the door behind him, scanned the room. It was one of a series of bare, concrete and metal basement rooms, clearly intended for storage. Several crates still standing haphazardly about the room. Spartan, industrial plasma lights in metal casings buzzed overhead.

 _Still thankful they cleared it so quickly._

Donovan Hoc sat in one of three chairs. A C-sec agent occupied a chair in the back of the room.

"Officer, could you leave the room. I'll handle our detainee."

The officer looked at Shepard, cocking his head.

"I for one..."

"Hoc, shut UP."

Izaias' gaze never left the officer.

"You sure, sir?"

"Yes."

Izaias' irritation creeped further into his tone than he had intended.

The officer left, the metallic door clanging behind.

Izaias took the third chair, in-line with Hoc's at the center of the room.

The former arms dealer glared with indolent rage.

"So _glad_ we could meet."

Izaias restrained neither his sarcasm nor his irritation.

There was a brief silence.

"I can _talk_ now?"

"That's the idea. I'm a SPECTRE, and that's all you need to know."

Hoc's expression changed, as if suddenly realizing the profound.

"I...know you…from TV. You're that one whose funeral was two years ago."

Izais remained silent.

"You'll regret arresting me. I _will_ find your family, your friends, and I _will_ make you suffer."

 _"That_ would be quite the accomplishment."

"What, you're some orphan with a sob story?"

"Whatever you want to think. Family's quite dead."

"Then I'll find your friends, maybe that _Asari_ you were so close to."

"You know even _less_ of who I am than I thought you would."

"Well…"

"Let's forego the BS. Where's Keiji?"

Hoc's surprise would have been amusing under normal circumstances. The arms dealer paused in incredulity.

"THAT's what all of this is about?"

Izaias shrugged.

"Pretty much. We still _are_ busting you for the missiles, along with whatever else we find. They were the excuse I'm using to look for 'im."

"Who...wait... _she's_ not involved is she?"

"I _may_ have received reliable, actionable intelligence from a certain informant who _may_ have been a close friend of Mr. Okuda's."

"Never should have let her escape. _Damn_ that thief."

Hoc's bitter-toned reflection was uttered under his breath.

"So, you have several options available.  
One: You can cooperate, give me Keiji's location. If he's alive, and I will draft a written recommendation you are granted probation at the earliest possible time.

Two: Give me the location of Keiji's body, and I'll recommend life instead of execution.  
Three: You can stall...and I will personally, slowly, dismember you."

Izaias unclipped his folding knife from his belt while hoc stared flatly.

"I've heard bluffs before..." Hoc sat up, projecting confidence. "..and I've heard how you work. You don't have the guts."

"You mean you heard how I killed countless mercenaries, nutjobs, and psychos across the galaxy and didn't regret any of those decisions? I don't appreciate thugs who take advantage of the powerless."

"..and you aren't doing the _same_ thing?"

Hoc's sneer resurfaced.

Izaias calmly rotated the blade out, the locking mechanism clicking audibly, while striding foward.

He held the blade to Hoc's throat, voice steadily falling to a growl. For the first time, Izaias saw fear in Hoc, the latter man's confidence melting away.

"No. See, I'm trying to protect people, and am liable for my actions, which are largely above-board. You're not. So, are you going to stop… _stalling_?"

He rotated the blade several degrees, the teeth etching cuts into Hoc's skin.

"OKAY..." Hoc's voice was unsteady. "..he's buried in the northwest corner of the property, by the greenhouse."

Izaias withdrew to the door, stowing the knife on his belt.

"Thank you. You will stay here until we find the body. If you're wrong, it'll cost you a foot."

He put on a fake smile, and made for the door.

"WAIT..." Hoc eyed his foot with keen concern, his voice even more panicked. "...He's not there..." The arms dealer shook his head violently, eyes pleading. "...He's stowed in the lowest basement level. It's below this one. Enter 'PERUGGIA' in the elevator console... Hoc gave Izaias a pathetic look, his voice faltering at times. "...and I forgot which room."

"...and how do I know _this_ one isn't a lie?"

"...Because I always save my own skin."

Hoc's face and tone had fallen, oddly ashamed.

Izaias left the room, the metal door's clang lending finality.

* * *

Izaias keyed in 'PERUGGIA' in the console. The doors yawned open, the elevator already at ground level.

"Can I get an agent or two over here?!"

The house, now in disarray, had supplied a wealth of actionable information to C-sec, and would supply an indignant Alliance propaganda machine with a new talking point.

Three agents, all Turian, had made their way to the elevator entrance.

"Thanks."

The larger of the three replied "No problem", another nodded, and the third entered the elevator.

The doors sealed, an electric murmur accompanying a sensation of slow falling.

The doors opened several seconds later.

At first inspection, the entire floor seemed to be composed of a dull, grey, coarse, concrete-like material. Upon closer inspection, it was apparent that within the roof's repeating diamond pattern of crevice and beam, was a metal latticework. Lights were affixed to the roof by mounts tying into the metal bracing.

The hallway continued on, doors of flimsy tube and chain-link screen on either side. Most were secured by ancient, rusted padlocks. It appeared as if the current hallway joined with another at a 'T' intersection ahead.

"You two take the rooms on the left. When you're done, take the ones on the right."

The agents moved off, the discordant protests of metal keenly audible within seconds.

Izaais moved to the first door, heating each of the two hinges with his OmniTool's 'Incinerate' function until the door could be swung out using the lock as an awkward pivot.

 _...and that's the closest I'll ever get to cutting a molten hole through a blast door._

The room bore the same design as the rest of the floor, the only difference being the space allocated to the design. Two formidable square pillars much like the ones seen outside occupied the center of the room. Rows of deactivated LOKI mechs occupied the room, their heads down and arms limp, anchored to metal frames reminiscent of the bicycle racks he'd utilized throughout middle and high school.

He went on.

Eight more rooms, almost identical to the one previous, followed. Their contents varied slightly.

Firearms, explosives, chemicals, components and parts he was entirely unfamiliar with, and sealed cylindrical containers with various ominous warnings abounded.

Neither Keiji Okuda nor indications of human remains were evident.

The tenth lock was felled. The noises of bashed locks were getting far away. _At least their progress is rapid._

The room smelled of decay; the floor rife with dark stains.

 _I believe I should be disturbed I regard this as a GOOD omen._

Izaias, holding an arm over his mouth and nose, observed an empty room, and almost left before a pathetic, barely audible groan registered.

"OKUDA?"

He navigated the pillars while the heavy footfalls of the Turian agents approached. They were not fazed by the smell. Whether this was due to an inherent tolerance borne of their ancestry or a more recent, nascent, numbing effect engendered by a career in law enforcement was something even they neither cared to nor could determine.

A small, bloodied man, dark-haired, and clad in equally bloody and tattered pants and shirt, was suspended from the latticework above him by two ropes, each secured at a wrist. His eyes were covered by a blood-soaked rag, once white now yellowed. His wrists bloody where the ropes had long since eaten into flesh. Gashes and holes in his clothes revealed bruises, gashes, cuts, and several severe burns. The man's dejected exhaustion was clearly evident. Taken as a whole, the sight was quite pitiable.

"One of you, get a medic. Could the other support Mr. Okuda while I cut the ropes."

Izaias' voice, dulled by his arm, was still quite audible.

He inspected the rope.

 _Looks reinforced. Combat knife'll do it._

The rope proved a deal more stubborn than Izaias had predicted.

He managed to cut one of the two, but it had taken him the better part of a minute.

"K..." He checked the Turian's collar, the name clearly block-printed across it. "...agent Bacchus..I'm going to incinerate the rope."

"Yes sir."

The Turian nodded, shielding Okuda with an arm

Izaias activated his OmniTool, the incinerate application set to 'stream' instead of the default 'burst' mode from its use before. The device sent an impressive, if narrow, stream of burning compound roughly a meter before it lost structure and temperature. The application worked exactly as advertised and expected. It incinerated a narrow section of the rope, freeing Keiji Okuda.

A minute passed.

Footfalls heralded a medic.

 _That was quick._

A shimmer and a shout heralded the arrival of someone else.

"KEIJI!"

Keiji looked about, weakly attempting to free himself from Izaias and agent Bacchus.

"Kasumi?"

"No. He's too wounded for this..." Izaias looked at Kasumi. "...I...he...needs intensive care _now_."

The medic, clearly delineated by the cross on his shoulder pieces, brushing through those gathered, examined Keiji.

Izaias could clearly see tears. The agents awkwardly observed, their doubt and disapproval easily perceived.

"...but."

Kasumi looked dejectedly on.

One of the agents, shooting Izaias a scathing glare, quickly made his way to Kasumi's side.

"...I'll make sure you can talk to him after aid is rendered."

The pair left.

The remaining agent stood by.

"I'll check the rest of the rooms."

Three now occupied the room.

The medic, shaking her head, stood, obviously completing her initial inspection.

She put a hand gently on Keiji's shoulder.

"You'll be fine. Can you walk?"

Keiji made a weak nose, indistinct and closer to a senseless murmur than speech.

"Can you nod?"

He nodded.

"K, Bacchus, get him to the medical shuttle outside. I've got to talk to the SPECTRE for a minute. We'll meet you at the elevator."

The former prisoner left, supported by the Turian's much larger frame.

"They blinded him."

"What?"

Izaias paused for a moment.

"Yeah, gouged out the eyes. Add to that countless minor injuries, and probably some combination of dehydration, blood loss, internal bleeding, and whatever else the goons caused. He's lucky to be alive..." She shook her head. "...Haven't seen something this bad outside of gang wars. ...and, for what it's worth, you made the right call with the girlfriend. Emotions mess everything up."

"Come on, get him to the elevator." She started walking.

"You're...a female Turian?"

"...Do you think Turian babies just pop of C-sec lost-and-found cabinets?"

"No...I've got a close friend who's Turian. I'm just curious why you're in foreign law enforcement. ...I've heard society's really rigid and insular, especially for women.

"That is a _giant_ understatement."

She chuckled, the helmet speaker rendering the noise more menacing than it should have been.

"Dad was in the force, and always told me to follow my heart...he was wierd like that...got a kick out of his six-year-old telling him she wants to be a police officer. He loved it. Mom, not so much."

"Oh. Glad you could be here to save our butts if need be."

"All part of the job. Your parents?...I don't mean to pry."

"Dead, Batarian slaver raid."

"Oh, sorry, siblings?"

"MIA since '76, Skyllian blitz. Everyone knows she's dead."

"...hmmm...sorry...I..."

"It's fine."

An awkward silence prevailed.

They finally arrived at the elevator. Bacchus stood in the elevator, an arm extended, presumably interrupting the 'HOLD DOOR' button hologram. The other arm supported the slightly built man as he leaned against the officer.

The lift engaged as the doors closed behind Izaias and the C-sec medical officer.

* * *

An hour later, Kasumi and Izaias sat outside the medical shuttle.

"Listen, you don't have to come. You have a lot to live for, and no reason to tag along. I'll deal with the contract. Cerberus can eat the travel expenses."

Izaias waited for Kasumi to reply. Keiji's condition hadn't been easy for anyone to wrap their head around, especially her.

"….you're….serious…"

"Yeah. Keiji will be admitted to Huerta for awhile, so you would be stuck on the Citadel. If I need information, I'll call and have Cerberus some consulting fee."

"….thanks…."

"One catch."

"What?"

Her voice had an edge it seldom did.

"I don't pay thieves. I know an ex-executor, Pallin. I'm sure they could use a forgery or security consultant."

"…you're serious…aren't' you."

"Yeah."

She shook her head, and smiled before he was too worried.

"I guess."

She smiled.

"Keiji expects post-cards."

"Whatever."

"You know, you're the least-idiotic law-enforcement officer I know."

"Thanks, miss Goto"

"What did I say about 'miss Goto' stuff?"

"…Right."

"Right….?"

"Right, miss"

She frowned.

"….Kasumi."

She shoved his shoulder lightly. He jumped, toppling his chair.

Keiji Okuda was airlifted to a C-sec vessel, stayed six months in Huerta Memorial Hospital, and would recover fully save his eyesight. Izaias' trip to the _Normandy_ was uneventful. Donovan Hoc will expire during sleep in a C-sec correctional facility in August of 2228.


	10. The Pale and Downtrodden, Ch 10

Don't accept that what's happening  
Is just a case of others' suffering  
Or you'll find that you're joining in  
The turning away"  
It's a sin that somehow  
Light is changing to shadow  
And casting it's shroud  
Over all we have known  
( _On the Turning Away_ , Pink Floyd)

* * *

 **December 1, 2184**

* * *

Mid Content I have yet to write...

* * *

 **December 2, 2184**

* * *

Izaias Shepard and Jeff Moreau sat in the fore cab section of the SR-71 as it exited the Mass Relay of a remote star cluster simply labelled 'XC-751'.

The shutters over the Normandy's main viewports pulled back, revealing a barely-visible collection of ships, the infamous Migrant Fleet.

"Jeff, please reduce speed to 20%."

Izaias turned back to the main CIC.

"Would someone back there hail the fleet and route the comm through Jeff's channel?!"

"Yes, commander!"

"Much appreciated!"

Jeff held a hand to his headset.

"I got static."

"Mind putting it on the local speaker system?"

Jeff pressed a switch, the speakers putting out a barely discernible static.

After a moment, a voice, with a distinct, if heavy, Quarian accent, rang out.

"Along tides of light and through shoals of dust..."

 _My ship went bust?_

Izaias and Jeff shared a glance.

Jeff shrugged.

Izaias shrugged back.

Jeff put his hand over his mic.

"I didn't realize this was drama club."

"Do you have any idea what the heck he wants? And, could you cut engne power?"

Jeff eased the throttle back.

"I think he wants the rest of the...poem thingy."

"You wouldn't happen to know that one?"

"No, more of an 'obsolete movie' guy."

Give me the mic.

Joker handed the headset over.

"I am Izaias Shepard, commanding officer of the SR dash seven one, carrying wounded from miss Tali Zorah Vas Neema Nar Rayya's expedition on Freedom's progress to the fleet. If I were of hostile intent, I would have approached at flanking speed with my guns deployed and stealth systems engaged, not at a snail's pace hailing you. May I please dock to one of any of your ships and offload your wounded. I am hesitant to load them on to a shuttle, as several of them are still in a...fragile state."

"Please answer or leave, Cerberus vessel."

"Can I speak to your manager?"

There was a long silence.

Izaias and Jeff looked at each-other quizzically.

Jeff grinned.

"Maybe we should do that more often. Need a breather? Just ask for the manager."

Izaias shook his head, smirking.

"This whole situation is ridiculous. I mean, who uses a passphrase outside of grade school?

Izaias mumbled this more to himself than to Jeff.

 _Now that I think about it, I'm actually surprised I didn't hear about this from Tali before._

There was a faint rustle on the line. Izaias and Jeff stared at the headset like the new person in the room.

"I am Avram'Moreh Vas Qwib Quib. Greetings captain Shepard. May I ask why a Cerberus vessel is carrying Quarians."

"I'm an old friend of Tali's. She trusts me to keep her people safe. I am commanding a Cerberus vessel because of temporary employment with said group, and am investigating the abductions of colonists and disappearance of colonies at the hands of the 'Collectors'."

"...Oh."

"...So, Avram'Moreh, may I drop off the injured members of Tali's team?"

"Yes, please stay where you are. The Alerei will be breaking away from the fleet, and verifying your claims. Goodbye commander Shepard, and welcome to the Migrant fleet. I apologize for your...ungracious first contact."

"Thank you, sir...and goodbye."

Izaias turned to Jeff.

"I can see why they made him manager."

Jeff raised his eyebrows, reclining his chair and resting his feet on the center console.

"Yeah...oooooh...needed that. How long do you think it'll take?"

"Judging by that tiny dot breaking away from all those other tiny dots, pretty long..." Izaias pointed to a small speck of a ship on the viewport. "...I'm gonna go get an early lunch..." He snapped his fingers. "...oh, and mute EDI. Can't have her talking with Quarians aboard. They fear AI's more than germs."

Jeff held up a thumb.

"Don't need to tell me twice."

He lazily pressed a button, shifting his hat over his eyes.

* * *

Mid content I have yet to write...

* * *

Izaias, sitting at his desk, was struck by a sudden idea.

Subject: Technical Advice

To: Scopedanddropped csecnetworkmail

Can you come upstairs? I have a new idea. I don't want it overheard.

Subject: Technical Advice

To: Scopedanddropped csecnetworkmail

Yeah, I'll finish calibrations in a minute, and start looking for stairs.

 _I sincerely hope that was sarcasm._

The door opened in several minutes.

"You couldn't stand an evening without me Shepard?"

Izaias, paused in his chair, frozen.

"Sorry. Went too far on that one."

"No problem."

"So, why all the secrecy?"

Garrus seated himself on the sofa, resting his feet on the table, Izaias turning to face him.

"Comfy enough?"

The Turian played along.

"...Vodka wouldn't hurt."

Izaias grinned.

"...and I take it you want that shaken, not stirred?"

Garrus stared confusedly on.

"Nevermind. I...was thinking..."

"You said that."

Izaias continued, unabated.

"...what if I gave the Quarians access to the Cerberus network?"

"Why? I hope it goes beyond annoying the Illusive Man."

"Data theft. I would like to know _exactly_ what's going on."

Garrus chuckled grimly.

"...Devious, but, as I said, Cerberus wouldn't take that too kindly...and they'd probably find out."

"...Tali's dad...Rael is even more of a software expert than his daughter. I was trying to think of a way to 'clone' my access point to the Cerberus network."

"This isn't an attempt to earn his good graces because he's Tali's dad?"

"No."

"In that case...what exactly was your plan?"

"I'd take my PC out in a suitcase after I'm sure Miranda's distracted elsewhere and EDI's and Zaeed's camera feeds are disrupted. If this access works, long-term, I'd hope to get the Quarians to send whatever data they find."

"You expect me to do the distracting and disrupting, don't you?"

"The technical bit, yes. The distracting bit, I was going to ask your advice about."

"What's a standard activity that puts Miranda out of the 'playing field', so to speak?"

"Let's just go with the obvious. Do it when she's asleep. We're docked. I'll alter the schedule, get someone I trust on CIC security duty that night. Garrus, can you go into EDI's room, and flip the 'kill' switch? Code's ''827-63362'..."

Garrus cocked his head slightly.

"What's the code again?"

He readied his OmniTool.

"Eight two seven dash six three three six two. On old displays, with letter series attached to the numbers, it spells 'VAS-NEEMA'."

Garrus, after clicking away on his device, looked at him oddly. _I could swear he's grinning._

"Your ship kill code is Tali's last name?"

"Yeah. I know it's sappy. ...As for Zaeed's cams, can you just nondescriptly let him know I'd appreciate it if his cameras experience a 'error' that renders tonight's footage unusable."

"...and you can't do it because..."

"...I suck at covert subterfuge."

"Right, the subtlety of a Krogan."

"You can be so encouraging. ...Anyways, I'll tweak the roster if you can go talk to Zaeed. When it's midnight, give EDI a 'nap'."

Garrus eased himself from his seat.

"Got it."

He paused at the door.

''Never a dull moment with you, Shepard."

Izaias, accessing the duty roster already, didn't turn from the screen.

"Thanks for this. ...And you _thrive_ on the unpredictability."

"Never said I didn't enjoy it."

The door sealed behind the Turian.

* * *

End Content I have yet to write...


	11. Appendix

**Appendix**

* * *

 **General Note on Concept**

I liked the idea of three Shepards existing at the same time, and the one you play as is the one that makes it out alive.

I tried to balance the Shepards. Two are mostly paragon, one is a renegade. Two are male, the other is female. One is of each background and history option.

Sarah is an earthborn war hero, and probably an 'Infiltrator', though, possibly, a 'soldier'. She was a tanker, and would need both marksmanship and technical acumen.

Mikhail is a ruthless spacer. His class really doesn't come into play. He is a characterization of the worst traits of maleshepard. His karmic death is a humorous end I envisioned for that kind of idiot.

Izaias is a sole survivor , colony kid, and engineer. Izaias represents what I'd wish to play Shepard as, more like myself and less like John Shepard, independent of what EA mandated, but staying mostly within BioWare's story.

I decided to use a selection from an 80's song and a word in the song for each chapter because of Joker's griping in Mass Effect 2 about how bad music was "200 years ago". Mass Efffect, set in 2180's, is 200 years ahead of the 1980's. I came up with this idea before I ever saw ' _Guardians of the Galaxy_ '.

 **Summary of Character Roles(In order of canon appearance)  
**

 **Admiral Steven Hackett** : His role as 'dad' to Shepard was a spur-of-the-moment decision when writing chapter 2. I thought of the possibility, and it explained so much, I decided to go with it. He is too invested in Shepard for there not to be some reason other than they both work for the Alliance Navy.

 **Admiral David Anderson** : Second mentor, I will play his role down. He will stay 'Councilor Anderson', however.

 **Ambassador Donnel Udina** : No changes from canon, one of many human Alliance antagonists.

 **Jeff 'Joker' Moreau** : Shepard's 'little sibling' analogue, and only close human friend aside from Pressley in 2183.

 **Kaidan Alenko** : Shepard's coworker. The relationship between them was always strained to some degree. Ash's death didn't improve things.

 **Nihlus** : Honored more than in canon. Not important in the overall plot, though. Izaias' first(and only) SPECTRE mentor.

 **Navigator Charles Pressley** : The first death Izaias Shepard experiences in-novel of someone close.

 **Karen Chakwas** : She disappears after ME1, research work on the Alliance hospital on the Citadel.

 **Richard Leeroy Jenkins** : He vanishes from ME1, and does not die. James Vega serves as his fill-in. Vega _does_ die. Richard will appear somewhere else if I get to it.

 **Ashley Williams** : The first person to make Izaias question his assumption that the Alliance was, by and large, made up of decent, if flawed, people. The primary human Alliance antagonist in 2183.

Note: I have no use for Ash, along with Taylor and Samara/Morinth. The closest I got was tolerating her, and choose her during my first Mass Effect marathons because I found Kiadan to be spineless. There is a glitch that, even if they do not say so, the male player character in Mass Effect 1 will be forced to being in a 'relationship' with Ash. This happened to me, but I refused to sleep with her(told her 'this isn't the time'). This glitch made her look crazy in ME2 as she insists she and Shepard had a 'special evening', compounded with her behavior in ME3, and annoyed me further when I got flak for staying with Tali. This glitch has cemented itself in her character. I apologize if this embittered dislike irritates or offends anyone.

 **Tali'Zorah Vas Neema Nar Rayya** : The 'magical princess' to Izaias' 'beleaguered paladin'. He respects and is attracted to her, but can't seem to get her to see him as a person rather than as a symbol.

 **Dr. Chloe Michel** : She gets promoted. She's the doctor aboard the _Normandy_ from 2184 onward.

 **Garrus Vakarian** : Shepard's wingman. So, no change from the vast majority of the fictional rewrites out there.

 **(Non-canon)SPOILER** : By the end of 2185, Vakarain and Lawson are a couple. By the end of 2185, Vakarain and Lawson are a couple. They seem like male/female mirror images of each-other. They're both family-centered, antisocial, perfectionistic, workaholics who would rather shoot first and ask questions later.

 **Wrex** : Izaias Shepard is closer to Wrex than in most of the fictions I've read and/or scanned through. The other wingman, though, in his case, it's more like 'overly protective grumpy uncle'.

 **Liara T'Soni** : The knowledgeable 'older sister' Shepard never had. He is overprotective of her because he's already experienced the death of one sister. They are close friends. NOT romantic in any way, shape, or form. So, they are uniformly closer than in most ME2 write-ups(as they do not have a falling out after Liara or Shepard botch things). However, they are never physically, and only rarely emotionally, intimate. Information, stories, and hellos are exchanged, that's about it. The fact that they are the 'canon' couple will come into play on occasion. She'll probably end up as 'team mom'. I detected too much of that in chapter 2. Sorry. My subconscious seems to be decided already. She was abused by Ash, even moreso than canon.

 **(Non-canon)SPOILER** : Kaidan believes this is why Shepard left Ash to die. It's partly true. Also, Liara and Kaidan had a 'thing' on the SR-1. No one knew except Shepard, Chakwas, and Vakarian, who kept things to themselves. Part of the reason he's so grumpy in chapter 2. She dumped him to go after the Shadow Broker.

 **Saren** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard.

 **Benezia** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard.

 **Shiala** : Gets promoted. More on that if I get to it.

 **Illusive Man** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard.

 **Miranda Lawson** : I realize some people hate her. She becomes a central character, and serves as No2 from 2185 onward. There is not supposed to be attraction between her and Shepard. I sort-of slipped, and wanted some degree of emotional conflict. It's supposed to be defused well before the _Normandy_ launch in 2184.

Explanation of my opinion: I see too much of myself in her to not like the _idea_ of her character. In-game, however, talking to her makes me want to go away. The camera angles, voice, and face don't make me like her. I am trying to make a more likeable Lawson, because I can sympathize.

 **Jacob Taylor** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard, and probably receives undue abuse.

 **Zaeed Massani** : Becomes crew of the Normandy from 2184 onward. Much more of a central character than canon. Sort-of a grumpier Wrex replacement.

 **Mordin** : One of many characters on the SR-2 I liked, but didn't want to talk to. I have Shepard following suit. Mordin is trusted however, just not in personal matters.

 **Kasumi Goto** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard. Never got why Shepard is so nice to her. I was waiting for betrayal. Shepard will put significant effort into helping miss Goto, however.

 **Jack** : She scares me, and, resultantly, the self-insert Shepard I'm writing. Shepard will do all he can to help her. There is some common ground with their hostile-to-Cerberus attitudes stemming from past abuses.

 **Grunt** : There will be friction between Shepard and Grunt. I cannot see a hormone-fueled warrior getting along with a deliberative space engineer-commando.

 **Thane** : Almost the exact same as Mordin. Cool alien dude, respectable and awesome. Just not worth talking to.

 **Samara** : She is erased from the story, and is never met. It's on purpose, and was on the earliest draft of the outline.

 **Legion** : Receives less sympathy from paragon Shepard. That Shepard's smitten with the Quarian girl is _completely_ unrelated to this(sarcasm). I fully expected betrayal in ME2  & ME3. So does Shepard.

 **-End-**

 **Chapter-by-Chapter Explanation of Departures from Canon**

Chapter 0: The way I play Shepard is so completely off-canon, I decided to kill off a representation of a 'bad' canon Shepard.

Chapter 1: Shepard's trying to romance Tali from the beginning. He's trying to make this happen, as I was. The only way I can see her being unaware of his advances is naïve ignorance paired with a completely different upbringing and lifestyle.

Chapter 2: Hackett's Shepard's dad. As before, this was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It explained a lot.

Chapter 2: Shepard and Kaidan are uneasy coworkers. This is a set-up for Kaidan's behavior in ME2 and early ME3.

Chapter 2: Shepard had girlfriends _outside_ the _Normandy_ crew. This seemed logical. As Izaias is a sole survivor, 'dead' seemed like an excellent reason for them to never show up in the story.

Chapter 3: Shepard woke up in 2184. I just found the way Shepard died to be too un-salvageable. He was spaced and frozen. Dead, but more complete than canon Shepard, who was burned, then squished when they hit an ice ball. I have him go through physical therapy because I found going from operating table to combat a little hard-to believe.  
Disclaimer: I did borrow this 'recovery' plot element from some fan fiction, though I do not remember the specifics. The writing and plot is my own, however.

Chapter 4: Wilson is caught. The medical expert staging an elaborate takedown of a whole Cerberus station seemed highly implausible, even factoring in Cerberus' gross incompetence.

Chapter 4: Tali's 25 in 2184. I moved Shepard's birth date one year later, and Tali's two years earlier. They are now four years apart. Made it less creepy, for me at least. Mikhail Shepard and Sarah Lane(name before adoption) are born on the normal 'canon' Shepard date of 'April 11, 2154'.

Chapter 5: Michel is lead physician on the _Normandy_. I never liked Chakwas. I like Dr. Michel. Simple as that. She's the first intentional recruitment I make every time I play through ME3.

Chapter 5: Shepard chose the crew he wanted. Cerberus, as a rule, is grossly incompetent except when it comes to killing and backstabbing. TIM masterminding a collection of 'nice' Cerberus people on the same ship to make Shepard comfortable seemed both unlikely and a stretch. The exact words escape me. Tali(and other aliens) weren't what Cerberus wanted. Shepard was the one who made the crew 'alien' heavy. If Cerberus designed the scenario for their own benefit, there would have been more humans and fewer aliens.

Chapter 6: I was always a little annoyed at how Hoc had big, _military-grade missiles_ in his basement. Yeah, dealing in bots and guns from your mansion? Sure. Dealing in ICBM's? Not so much. I am also annoyed at how little canon Shepard uses his powers to arrest. I turned Kasumi's heist into a police raid.

Chapter 6: The _Normandy_ was launched early. This made sense of why the _Normandy_ SR-2 needed to be so thoroughly upgraded to be combat effective during the post-Omega Relay battle scene. This also gave rise to my attempted lightheartedness with certain real issues I had with the SR-2 and several imagined ones(so it's not just griping). I also rushed the launch to give myself ample time before 2186(and the Reapers) roll up.

Chapter 6: EDI isn't loved by anyone. Just never saw her greatness. The fact that I receive Tali's commentary about the universe as unequivocally reliable probably has something to do with that.

Chapter 6: GX-12 thermal piping is needed. I wrote-in what I thought was the ME2 part purchase. It turns out the fuel couplings are in ME2. Oops. I'll stick with it, though. Catastrophic reactor failure trumps tedious recalibration. I guess fuel couplings are getting moved to 2186?

Chapter 7: Freedom's Progress does not occur immediately after _Normandy_ 's launch. The occurrence seemed too convenient.

Chapter 7: I altered Keiji's fate. It seemed easier to me to break someone than hack an obviously extensively encrypted device.

Chapter 7: I altered Kasumi's ending. Of all the companions' endings, Kasumi's was the least deserved. She is a basically decent person trying to save the galaxy out of mere altruism. I think Kasumi deserved better. I also don't have any pressing need for miss Goto in the plot, so it's one less character to deal with.

Chapter 10: Izaias' first time in the Migrant Fleet does not include Tali. I figured, if Shep is attracted to Tali, he'd try _something_ to help her. This was the best I came up with.

 **-End-**

 **Shepard Profile**

Paragon/Renegade Status and Politics: Pessimistic but idealistic anti-AI, pro-alliance, pro-council paragon turning into a cynical, pessimistic, but principled pro-council, anti-alliance, paragon, apathetic about AI. Shepard always is, and will be, anticerberus.

Attitude/Personal Description: Stubborn, principled, stoic, publicly laconic, privately wordy and open, uses work to suppress feelings

Physical Description: Average height, muscular, average build, pronounced cheekbones & forehead, pronounced shoulder, neck, and thigh muscles. Caucasian, pale, red hair, clean-shaven, deep blue, almost navy, eyes. Harsh, dour, expression, red lips. Approximately 185 pounds before Cerberus augmentation, 195 after. Had to wear contacts or eyeglasses before death.

Alliance ID: .GHA.13C.E1W.1.5DJ.4Q8.4WD.12D.3(ME3 code)

Explanation of name: I was just scrolling though male baby names for a multicultural name base for a game idea, and found one that was interesting enough I wrote it down. I was tired of seeing an uninteresting name for my Mass Effect saves. Izaias is, I believe, a Polish re-spelling of the Jewish name Isaias.

Explanation of specialization: I needed a justification of why he is always having Tali, Garrus, or, sometimes, Liara do the technical work for him, and why he needs so much help with computer systems. Izaias Shepard is an explosives engineer.

 **-End-**

 **History**

The Shepard family was a transplant to Mindoir(2160AD). The heads of this family were Cristine and Alex. Izaias and Jane rounded out the household. Alex made a career repairing heavy equipment, specifically, agriculture equipment. Eventually, Alex founded a small business(2161AD). Izaias was born(2155AD) almost a year after his parents married(2154AD). Jane was adopted on Earth(2157AD) at three. Cristine and Alex grew up and were married in Albany NY.

Jane was thirteen month Izaias' senior. He played the part of older brother, however. She was immature(sweet, fun, spontaneous, flexible, occasionally pouty), but scarred.

Cristine got her husband on board with her plan, and had the family signed up for the colonization effort. The promise of free or nearly free land colonial life offered, along with the opportunity and freedom that land promised, lured the family to Mindoir.

Then, 2170 rolled along. Izaias protected his sister and hid her from Batarian raiders. Both Jane and Izaias completed the rest of their high school education(2170-2171AD), and went through college mainly supported by Alliance military grants(2171-2175AD). Jane studied mechanics and dabbled in psychology. Izaias learned the ins and outs of physics/engineering.

The siblings parted ways, each enlisting(2175AD) as part of the terms of the grants. Jane went into the armored divisions, and Izaias into combat engineering.

Jane was presumed KIA during the Skyllian Blitz, holding off Batarians. Jane's three-person grizzly tank's burned-out shell was found with two skeletons in it. Izaias' college roommate, Rolf Hillary, one of Izaias' two friends and Jane's gunner, was, unlike Jane, determined to be KIA. Jane's body was never found.

Izaias mourned her loss for many months, two of them on a "assignment" guarding an Alliance administrative building on Mars. The placement was out of pity. Hackett helped Shepard through his tough time after his sisters' death. Izaias applied shortly after for front-line duty.

Several months passed. Shepard had feelings for Stacie Adelais(college friend who enlisted like him in the combat engineers), and told her how he felt before they deployed on a routine patrol & cartography mission on Akuze. The mission went fine, then all heck broke loose. He was knocked out shortly after her scream. Shepard found himself alone and awake in the debris and dirt-filled half of what had been a Mako APC.

Izaias sent a transmission for support from one of the least-damaged Makos, and proceeded to catalogue the bodies. 47 Marines ceased to exist that day. 23 bodies were found, small parts of 11 other bodies were found, the rest were presumed KIA. The Alliance decided psychological therapy was warranted. Shepard did not get along with the therapist, and was back on-duty within two months after extensive screening for psychological damage. Eventually, Shepard was assigned on the _Normandy_ as their explosives and engineering specialist and commander of the ground parties.

Romance(s): Stacie, though she died before anything happened. Many who do not know Shepard personally thinks he and Liara are more than the "close friends" they claim to be. There were and are no romantic feelings on either side. Ash was a crazy stalker(feelings were _very_ one-sided). Shepard and Miranda almost did something regrettable, feelings were mutually defused. Tali is the only real one, though.

 **-End-**

 **Equipment Preferences**

Preferred Armor(s): (below, changes with time)

2183: Ursa Heavy Armor

late 2184, mid 2185: Terminus Assault Armor

mid 2185, onward: Modular N7 suit w/Death Mask

Default Armament: Rifle, Pistol, Shotgun

Preferred rifle(s): AvengerX, Geth Spitfire, Cerberus Harrier, N7 Typhoon, M-96 Mattock

Preferred pistol(s): M-7 Phalanx, Blood Pack Executioner, Carnifex

Preferred Shotgun(s): Eviscerator, Geth Plasma Shotgun

Preferred Heavy Weapon(s): Blackstorm(general-purpose), Firestorm(crowd control & exploration)/M-920 CAIN(demolition/Anti-armor)/Particle Cannon(Collector Praetorians)

Preferred Sniper Rifle(s)(for missions necessitating long-range combat, shotgun ditched in that case): Kishock Harpoon Gun, Geth Javelin, Mantis

Power Layout

Special Rounds(Tungsten for everything except his Avenger-X)

Marksman Protocol: Integrated Into Phalanx Pisol, syncs with hardsuit to reduce recoil, ME1

Shield Overclock: Standard ME1

Overload: Standard ME2

Medi-Gel: Supplied by Council After Promotion to Specter, ME1

Incinerate: Supplied by Cerberus, ME2

Drone: Supplied by Cerberus ME2

Autoturret: Bought pre ME3

 **-End-**

 **Made-up stuff not in canon**

Turian females are rare(30% of infants female), considered blessing(almost like Krogan). Thus, unless extraordinarily gifted, frontline duty is discouraged. Turian society insular, so you almost never see them outside a Turian colony, ship, settlement, station, etc, etc.

The Phalanx Mk2 was released between ME2 and ME3: It's a cheap remake by a different manufacturer. The new models can mount advanced optics, and boast increased thermal clip efficiency. The contract was reissued, and it was deemed by Alliance command that the per unit costs of Phalanx Mk1's were too high.

The Kodiak Shuttles optimally seat eight, two in the cabin and six in the troop bay. The shuttles can hold many more, but the seats are designed to protect occupants in case of crash, jostling, or other flight hazards a drop shuttle might face.

The Mako seats four. Elizebeth Bayhnam fits in the Mako on Feros.

Shepard paranoid about alliance types due to being backstabbed so often. Jacob is disliked partly because of this.

Shepard does not dream of the child. He dreams seldom. On very rare occasions, and a couple times in ME3, he has nightmares in which those he beleives he will or has failed are featured.

Didn't Protect: Cristine, Alex, Jane Shepard, Rolf Hillary(fictional roommate), Stacie Adelias(fictional 2nd crush, and killed on Akuze), James Vega, Nihlus, Pressly, Liara, Mordin, Thane, Yaroslev Tartakovsky(that guy from Noveria)

Won't Be Able to Protect: Wrex, Tali, Garrus & Miranda, Zaeed, Jeff & Kelly, Gabriella & Ken

 **-End-**

 **Timeline** (to keep everything straight)

2132: Alex Shepard(father) born

2133: Cristine Hanson(mother) born

2154-April 11: Sarah Lane(Sarah Shepard's original name) born, Mikhail Shepard born

2154-(At some point, it doesn't really matter): Shepards married.

2155-March 26: Izaias Shepard born

2157-Sarah Lane adopted at three, and renamed Sarah Shepard

2159-November 8: Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya born

2160-Shepard family moves to Mindoir

2161-Alex Shepard founds business

2170-Mindoir massacre. Izaias witnesses his parents, close childhood friend, and neighbors killed. He hides his sister.

2170-2171-Sarah and Izaias finish their high school education

2171-2175-Sarah and Izaias are in college

2175-Shepard siblings enlist

2176-Sarah's Death, what once was Mikhail is splattered on the wall of a Zakera ward citadel hotel room #140

2177-Akuze

1283-ME1(Izaias turns 28, Tali turns 24)

2184-Novelization start.

2185-ME2(Izaias turns 30, Tali turns 26)

2186-ME3(Izaias turns 31, Tali turns 27)

 **-End-**

 **Roadmap** (Generalized to remove spoilers, subject to change. Finished chapters will disappear from this list.)

3-6: Need Update

8: Freedom's Progress

9: Migrant Fleet (completely non-canon rabbit trail which will be important later)

10: Archangel

11: Haestrom

12: Post-Haestom

13: Citadel(upgrades, SPECTRE business)

14: Omega(Solus Clinic)

15: Grunt Recruitment

16: Christmas(May move, depending on how many days I assign to chapters)

17: Zaeed's loyalty

18: Normandy SR-1 crash site

-2185-

19: Nos Astra

20 More Nos Astra

21: Miranda's Loyalty

22: Thane Recruitment

23: Docked Normandy business(More Nos Astra)

24: Horizon

25: Jack Recruitment

26: Tali's Loyalty

27: Post-Tali's Loyalty

28: Garrus' Loyalty

29: Brunch

30: Thane's Loyalty

31: Collector Cruiser

32: Time off

33: Jack's Loyalty

34: Tuchanka Intro

35: Mordin's Loyalty

36: Grunt's Loyalty

37: -I have no idea-

38: Jacob's Loyalty

39: Derelict Reaper

40: Legion Drama(It's not what you think)

41: Morinth Assassination

42: Leigion's Loyalty

43: Mindoir

44: More Mindoir

45: More Mindoir

46: Pre Omega Relay

47: Collector Base Infil

48: Collector Base Exfil

49: Post Collector Base, Shepard & Co. backstab Cerberus

50: Post Collector base(private)

51: Farewells

52: Crazy Freighter bots

53: Liara calls(More Nos Astra...again)

54: Nos Astra Business Center

55: Hagalaz System

56: Post Hagalaz

57: The return of the SR-71

58: SR-71 Crew rotation

59: SR-71 Refits

60: Shore Leave

61: Night at the Movies

62: SR-71 Re-Launch

63: Geth Terrorists

64: Derelict Freighter

65: Blue Suns Base

66: Lost Quarians

67: Batarian Terrorists

68: ...An ME3 event that's getting moved

69: Palaven, pt1

70: Palaven, pt2

-2186-

71: Palaven, pt3

 **-End-**


End file.
